Future Consequences
by Zeria
Summary: Chris Perry made an extremely dangerous enemy. Chris Halliwell will pay the price.
1. Dark Meetings

Disclaimer: I only own the ones you've never heard of before.

Author's note: This is going to be my very first attempt at a rated M story. As such, I feel the need to warn people later chapters will contain graphic descriptions of violence and sexual activity, some of which may be under duress or at least dubious consent.

Chapter 1

 _2004_

 _The cavern was lit with only a few flickering flames set in medieval brass fixtures. Shifting shadows added to the thickly ominous atmosphere as each glimpse of light reflected on a new horror. Wall mounted rings and suspension bars, dungeon irons, handcuffs and chains. A table with leather straps in the corner with telling ruddy stains running down its length. A second table covered in blood soaked knives and vials filled with dark solutions, which filled the air with the pungent smell of vinegar and rotten eggs. In stark contrast to the implements of torture, a four poster bed stood out from the wall on the far side with the finest satin sheets in pristine white. Anyone familiar with this particular demon knew the bed was actually the most dangerous item in the lair._

 _No one came to this part of the underworld. Not in centuries. Not without permission. Not unless they planned on never returning to their home again. Not unless they were desperate._

 _Chris Perry eyed the demoness warily from his position at the entrance of her lair. He'd only ever heard rumors of her existence, thinking the stories more myth than fact. After all, if they were true, she was the oldest demon in existence. Mother to half the upper echelon of the underworld. Except no one could describe her. No one could say what exactly her powers included. Merely uttering her name had sent quivers of fear down the spines of his demonic contacts. The Source himself didn't command as much respect, fear and awe, and if he were smart, Chris would have orbed out of there as soon as he discovered she was real._

 _Only he didn't flee. He stood stone still waiting for her to make the first move because he needed her. Needed to see what she knew. What she might be able to find out. Having been in the past for months now without coming any closer to finding the answer he needed to save the future - save his family - he was willing to turn over even the most dangerous stones._

 _The demoness was sprawled leisurely on her side across the bed. Her violet eyes raked over him with deliberate intent. Up and down. Up and down. After an uncomfortably long, silent scrutiny, the corner of her mouth curled up, and she flicked her fiery red hair over her shoulder as a soft moan of approval hummed in her throat. In a voice innately silky and seductive, she finally commented, "You have my attention."_

" _I came to make a trade."_

 _In one fluid motion, she sat up and rose from the bed. As she slowly sauntered toward him, deep scarlet wings extended out from her back matching the curled horns protruding from her forehead. She came to a stop in front of him, close enough he could smell the sweet fruity scent of her, almost feel the intense heat she radiated through his shirt. She reached a taloned hand up to his face, running the back of her nail from his temple to his jaw._

 _Chris flinched away from her touch. Edging her a sharp look, he said flatly, "I said a trade."_

 _The demoness' violet eyes sparkled with amusement. "You think I can't just take what I want, Young One?"_

" _Not from me," he replied coolly._

 _She fixed him with a firm stare. Seeing what he knew she would in his eyes, her expression hardened, and she took a step back, wings folding in obvious disappointment. In a more natural tone she commented, "So damaged for one so very young and virile."_

" _I'm aware." He folded his arms. "Do you want to hear my proposition or not?"_

" _Perhaps," she commented. She floated back to him, getting intimately close again. Going up on her toes she brushed her nose against the side of his head into his hair, breathing deeply. Coming back down on the balls of her feet, she breathed in his ear, "You smell divine."_

 _Fighting not to shiver either at the warm air brushing against his skin or how unnerved he felt by her proximity, Chris regarded her carefully. "I know what you are, Lamia. What you need. If you can tell me about the threat against The Charmed One's baby, I'm willing to give it to you."_

 _Violet eyes lit with intrigue. "I find your information, and you give me what I most desire?"_

 _Ignoring the rising nausea swirling in his stomach, he nodded. "Yes."_

 _The horned head tilted slightly as she studied him, weighing his offer. Several tense minutes passed with her eyes boring intensely into his before a small, pleased smile formed on her beautiful face. She announced, "Deal."_

 _It wasn't the first time Chris Perry had made a deal with a demon. It was; however, the first time he was actually worried he might not be able to maneuver his way back out of it. If he didn't tread carefully, Lamia could quickly become a bigger problem than she was worth. Only time would tell if the reward was worth the risk._

Changed Future 2027

Slamming his office door shut behind him, Chris Halliwell jerked off his Magic School robe, flinging it across the brown loveseat resting against the wall to his right. He stormed across the small space to his desk, sinking into the leather chair behind it. Then, he dropped his head into his hands and released a frustrated groan.

It had been such a long day. Three advanced magic classes, one advanced potion course and a meeting of the planning committee for The Winter Solstice Dance wherein he was forced to discuss themes and budgets and dress codes. It was also during the meeting he had a particularly unwanted run in with someone he'd been very much trying to avoid. Someone who was likely going to show up here any second.

As if on cue, the door opened and a loud, regretful breath preceded the soft click of it being gently closed again. After a minute, an exasperated voice said, "Chris, this is ridiculous. We need to talk."

"No," Chris started, raising his head to glare at the other man. "We really don't, Dad. I thought I made that abundantly clear."

Leo Wyatt's face fell, blue eyes shining. "Please, at least let us explain. Hear our side of the story then if you still want to cut us out of your life . . ." He couldn't finish the thought, so the words wound up a sad broken smile with a helpless shrug. "Well, honestly, we won't let you, so you might as well accept that now. You're our son. We're never giving up on you."

"No, you'll just lie to me my whole life," the son spat. He bitterly shook his head. "I mean, do you have any idea what this feels like for me? Everything I thought I knew about who I was and where I fit in the world has changed. Did anyone actually ever see me, or was I just a handy replacement?"

"Chris, no," Leo firmly argued. "You grew up surrounded by a family who loves you. Who would do anything for you. Just because your mother and I made what you see as a bad decision doesn't negate a lifetime of happy memories."

"Were you ever planning on warning me?" Chris wondered, leaning back in the chair and crossing his arms. "Or were you so arrogant with your former-Elder-know-how that you presumed to know all the possible consequences for me?"

The father folded his arms now, setting his mouth in a disapproving line. He shook his head. "It wasn't like that, Chris, and you know it. Your mother and her sisters, me, we all did a lot of research. We checked with every powerful source of magic there is to be sure you would be safe."

"Considering I ended up with a gaping hole in my gut on my birthday, I'd say they were wrong wouldn't you?" Chris challenged. When his father visibly winced, the son's anger abated, and he let out a breath. "I'm sorry. I know how scared you were - the memories it brought up. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay. I understand you feel betrayed," Leo said. "We kept a very big secret from you boys, and unfortunately, it came back to hurt you both. Especially you, Chris, and your mom and I are so, so sorry. We just want to know what can we do to make it right?"

"I told you before I needed some space, Dad," Chris answered. "Just some time to wrap my head around everything."

"You haven't been to the manor in months," Leo said. "Haven't said more than a few words to your mother or aunts. It's killing them not to see you. Hear from you. Phoebe keeps writing advice columns about relationships with nephews, and Paige has thrown herself into her charges to distract herself, and your mom-"

"Don't," Chris cut-in. "Stop trying to make me feel guilty. They caused this. All of them lied over and over, and it nearly got me killed. Plus, my whole life now seems like it was full of fake smiles, assumptions and guilt. It's going to take some time for me to get over the fact my family was seeing someone else when they looked at me."

Sounding desperate, the father wondered, "How much more time?"

The young man shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know."

"I'm not giving up on us, Chris," Leo swore. "I never have. I never will. I love you, Son."

Chris turned his head away, staying silent. Only after he heard the door swish and click closed did he look back over to where his father had been standing. Staring at the empty space, he swallowed thickly, overcome by the weight of the complicated emotions he'd been struggling with for months. Needing to see someone who could understand, Chris orbed.

The brilliant blue and white lights swirled through the ceiling of Magic School, reappearing in a small apartment in downtown San Francisco in front of a tall, muscular man whose hair shifted between light brown and blonde depending on how the light struck it. The man had incredibly warm, compassionate brown eyes in the middle of a strong, chiseled face. His features lit into a smile as he saw who was coalescing from the orbs. "Hi. You're home early."

Chris let out a breath, greeting, "Hey, Wyatt."

At the tone of his brother's voice, Wyatt Halliwell's face fell to sympathy. "Bad day, Kit?"

"Dad cornered me."

"Ah, I see," Wyatt responded, gesturing to the sofa and taking a seat next to Chris after the younger man had sat down. He tilted his head, observing his sibling for a moment before venturing, "I understand why you're mad. I really do. I wasn't exactly thrilled when I found out either, but they love us. They're not going to stop trying. Besides, don't you think you're being a tad hard on them?"

Green eyes glared heatedly. "Are you seriously defending them after everything you and I went through this last year?"

The older brother raised his hands in surrender. "No. Definitely not. Your issues with our parents and aunts is between you guys. I hashed out my problems with them, and I hope someday you will too, but that's for you to decide."

"It's not the same for you," Chris muttered. "You're not filling the void left by a ghost."

Wyatt fixed him with a firm stare. "Neither are you."

The younger man stared miserably down at his feet not responding.

Deciding drastic measures were in order to cheer up his brother, Wyatt said, "Listen, with all the craziness leading up to your birthday, and then the whole you almost dying on your birthday, followed by the Halliwell Cold War, we never really got a chance to celebrate. How about we temporarily forget about alternate timelines and everything else related to magic and go out tonight? My treat."

Chris lifted his head to look at his brother. "Seriously?"

"Absolutely," Wyatt confirmed. "It's been way too long since we Halliwell Boys had a night off don't you think? No demons. No magic. No burdens of other lives. Just strong drinks, good music and if we're lucky, interesting women."

A smile slowly spread on Chris' face, and he nodded. "Yeah, okay. You know what, I think that may be just what I need right now. Thanks."

Wyatt put a hand on his brother's shoulder, smiling. "Hey, that's what being the older brother is all about. Now, let's go find some fun."

Several hours later . . .

Purposefully avoiding P3 to make sure they didn't run into any of the many various members of their family, the brothers had decided to hit a popular salsa club called _El Diablo_ on the south end of the city. Upbeat music blared wall to wall, red and purple lights cast a sexy glow over the black couches in the seating area and the hardwood floors stretching and shining across the dance space. People slid and ground against one another with fevered passion in all corners.

Dressed in black slacks and a deep purple dress shirt, Chris was lounging on one of the sofas in the corner bobbing his head in time to the catchy song playing. He took another drink of his Michelada, smiling in amusement as he watched his brother on the dance floor.

Wyatt, dressed in white slacks and an orange dress shirt, was currently trying to keep up with a rather saucy latina who was dancing circles around him. Not that it took much. Twice Blessed and most powerful witch ever to exist though he may be, Wyatt Halliwell had zero rhythm. For Chris, watching his brother step on the poor woman's foot again while awkwardly moving out of sync with the beat was worth the price of admission.

As the song ended, Wyatt parted from his partner and returned to take a seat next to Chris, flopping down next to him. When Chris handed him the margarita he'd been holding for him, the older brother took a drink before asking over the music, "I really can't dance, can I?"

"Not even a little, Man," Chris laughed.

"Company makes it worth the embarrassment," Wyatt returned with a smile, gesturing with his eyes over to the woman he'd been dancing with. "Her name is Lucy. I got her number."

"Well done."

The Twice Blessed gave him a pointed look. "Come on, Kit. You can't just sit here drinking all night. Dance. Flirt. Live a little. I'm worried about you. I don't even remember the last time you had a date needless to say brought someone back to the apartment."

Chris took a long drink, finishing it off to spite his sibling. When Wyatt kept fixing him with the same brotherly stare of concern, he rolled his eyes. "I'm not interested in dating, and getting laid is not going to solve my problems."

"Is this about Bianca?" Wyatt ventured. "Is that why you haven't so much as looked at a woman in nearly a year?"

The younger man dropped his gaze to his now empty glass, setting his jaw.

"Chris, you don't even know her," his brother went on. "Fragmented dreams, distorted images and voices . . . it's not real. It's also not healthy. You're not him any more than I'm a psychotic mass murderer. I thought we decided we'd live our lives our way and leave our alter egos to their timeline where they belong."

"I also thought we weren't talking about it tonight," Chris angrily returned. He sharply stood muttering, "I'm getting another drink."

Leaving Wyatt looking worried on the sofa behind him, Chris started weaving his way through the crowd toward the bar. Distracted by thoughts of a woman he didn't remember, had never met, and likely never would, Chris wound up walking straight into another patron. The impact pulled him back to the moment, and full of guilt over his clumsiness, he immediately turned to look at the person he'd bumped into in order to make sure they were okay.

What he found was one of the most startlingly beautiful women he'd ever seen. Tall with a toned, voluptuous figure, the woman had long flowing red hair accenting high cheekbones and delicate features. Her eyes were a hypnotizing violet hue and her lips were full in an enticing pink.

"I am so sorry," Chris told her. "Are you okay?"

The man who had been on her arm, a tall burly fellow with dark hair and eyes, scowled down at him. "No thanks to you." The man crowded Chris, purposefully towering over him as an intimidation tactic. He pulled at his white shirt revealing a telling brown stain. "Look what you made me do."

At the same time a silky voice breathed, "You."

"Sorry, it was an accident," Chris addressed the other man, not the least affected by the stranger's bulk. Compared to the demons he fought on a weekly basis, the guy was nothing. "If it's that big of a deal to you, I'll pay to have it cleaned or give you money for a replacement."

The woman glanced over to her companion, locking eyes on him. "That won't be necessary."

"That won't be necessary," the man intoned.

Chris frowned. "You sure? You seemed pretty upset a second ago."

"He's sure," the woman answered, eyes still locked on the other man. She gestured dismissively at him. "Go away. I'm done with you now."

As the big man obeyed the woman's order with nary a peep of protest, disappearing back into the crowd, Chris watched him go with raised brows. As aggressive as the guy had come off at first, it was surprising he would be so docile and subordinate with his girlfriend. Something about the situation niggled the back of the witch's mind, but he couldn't quite piece anything concrete together.

"It's been a long time," the woman commented, eyeing him from head to toe and back again. "You may be even more delectable than I remember."

Before Chris could even furrow his brows in confusion at the comment, the woman pressed herself up against him, her hands squeezing his shoulders. Her touch felt fevered through his shirt, and for some reason, it sent a jolt of heady attraction through him. Vaguely he noted a fruity scent suddenly in the air, which he instinctively breathed in deeply, closing his eyes as it made his mind grow fuzzy.

Voice rich with seductive undertones, she whispered in his ear, "You're not getting away this time, Young One."

The woman formed a tiny circle with her perfect pink lips, blowing gently. A red mist subtly escaped her mouth floating into Chris' face. The young man flashed red for only a second before returning to normal. Seeing the effect she wanted, the woman smiled in satisfaction, took a step back, and vanished into the sea of dancers.

"Chris? Chris?"

Chris blinked at the sound of his name. He found his brother looking down at him in concern. "Wyatt?"

"You've been gone a while, so I came to see what was taking so long," Wyatt told him, sounding worried. "Then I find you, and you are completely zoned out. I've been saying your name at least five minutes now. What happened?"

Trying to recall what he'd been doing or thinking, the younger brother found he couldn't. The last thing he remembered was getting up to get a refill on his drink, only based on his still empty glass, he never made it to the bar. He frowned. "I'm not sure."

Wyatt's face grew serious. "Do you think it may be related to our family's usual penchant for trouble?"

Code for demon. Chris rolled his eyes. "You know I haven't been sleeping well for months now. I probably just spaced out from exhaustion mixed with alcohol. Don't worry so much, Wy."

"I don't like the sound of that either," the older brother remarked. "Especially not considering the type of unsavory individuals we tend to run into on a daily basis. Maybe we should call it a night. Get home, so you can try to rest."

Fighting demons the way he felt right now would not be fun. Something just felt . . . off. In light of the strange feeling, Chris nodded agreement, gesturing vaguely for his brother to lead the way out. As Wyatt made a path through the crowd, Chris started to follow only to pause and look back over his shoulder. He would have sworn he felt someone watching him. When he didn't see anyone, he shook his head at his paranoia and continued after his brother.

He had no idea a pair of cunning violet eyes was indeed following his every move.

TBC . . .


	2. A Dance with the Devil

Very excited by the response so far! Thank you so much to everyone reading. Special thanks to Oc, Korzy Potterwell, jade, kkarrot and weiliya for taking the time to share your thoughts. As a review junkie it feeds my muse better than anything else.

As a Valentine's Day gift from me: The next chapter with a graphic sexual scene. (This also serves as my warning for said scene :) )

Chapter 2

Upon seeing Chris again nearly twenty-four years after their last encounter, Lamia believed perhaps The Fates had finally seen fit to spin her a thread leading to the end of her hellish curse. After all, in two millennia he was the only male she'd ever encountered with the necessary power coursing through his blood to do it.

The demoness was not easily surprised, but when she looked up into the face of the person who had run into her at the club and saw those startling green eyes, her breath had caught. The man she desperately needed, who she had hungrily craved all these long years was standing before her not aged a day from the last time she'd seen him. Well, she supposed that wasn't true. He'd aged twenty-three years just as a different person.

When The Charmed One's whitelighter had first appeared to her all those years ago, the demoness had sensed the truth about him immediately. He tried to hide it, tried to pretend to be an average whitelighter, but he was anything but ordinary.

Firstly, he was out of time, which was why her unmatched skill as a prophet failed her in regard to him. She could see nothing of his past, present or future for he had tangled himself in all three threads too fully to separate him out of the web in which he was ensnared. A man had not been a mystery to her in thousands of years, but Chris Perry was shielded from her insight, and she knew nothing of him but what she perceived in their encounters.

Secondly, he was no whitelighter. Not really. The vast magical aura she felt was elder power mixed with wiccan. He was the son of the eldest, most powerful Charmed One if she had to hazard a guess. It explained his all consuming drive to save the baby. Not that she'd let on she knew. No, it would be much more fun to let him think he still held his secrets.

While the man was the key to breaking the curse Hera had placed on her so long ago, Lamia knew from the moment she looked in Chris Perry's eyes that first night it would not be easy to get him to do so. He was broken. His heart and soul belonged to another, and the woman was dead. It permanently blocked him from Lamia's charms. One could not fever a heart which was shattered. Could not coax burning passion out of one whose soul was numb with loss. It meant he had to break the curse willingly.

She had known from the start he was bluffing when they made their deal. Only he underestimated her, and she nearly trapped him. While she had lost in the end, it had been the most glorious game of Cat and Mouse she'd ever played. Especially with a mouse of such addicting flavor.

The demoness smiled softly remembering the first time she'd tasted him . . .

 _2004_

 _Lamia had sent word to The Charmed One's whitelighter nearly two days ago. Her visions had revealed a vital piece of his puzzle, and she was ready to make good on their deal. Only he had not come or given reply. She was beginning to fear he had learned more about her past, realized his mistake in approaching her and would disappear, costing her the chance to be redeemed._

 _Ever since Chris had offered himself to her in exchange for information on what would happen to his brother, she'd used all her power to find answers. So caught up in her efforts, she had neglected to feed and was now too weak to maintain one of her preferred forms. She was trapped in her real body. While her top half was all lucious woman, everything below her navel was the scaly tail of a serpent. She could not escape the Greek monster Hera had made her, and the blood soaked memories threatened to pull her down into a terrible abyss._

 _The sound of soft chimes saved her from the dark memories, and ethereal lights of blue and white lit her cavern forming Chris Perry. Upon seeing her true form, the man's lips parted, a shaky breath quietly inhaled. His eyes started on the iridescent rainbow scales covering her lower half before nervously moving up to her bare breasts. At the sight of her chest, he flushed an adorably innocent red, turning his head away._

" _No need to be shy, Young One," she tsked, slithering close to him. "Look all you like."_

" _I thought it was a myth." His eyes darted to her tail before quickly fixing on a vague spot on the wall. "Last time you had wings and horns."_

 _She quirked a delicate brow. "I thought you said you knew who I was."_

" _Former queen cursed by Hera for having an affair with Zeus," he recited still staring fixedly at the wall to avoid looking at her._

 _Her scales rubbed against the ground as she circled around him, the slippery, sliding sound making the young man cringe. Undeterred, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. Her mouth brushed against his ear, as she told him, "I am the mother of monsters. That is my curse, Young One. I have many shapes to create many different demons."_

 _The whitelighter swallowed thickly before his sage eyes slid to meet her violet pair. "Is the rest true?"_

" _Do I eat babies?" she asked dryly slipping in front of him with a frown, keeping him fixed in her arms. When he said nothing and his expression remained unchanged, she answered, "No. Villagers spread that tale to frighten their young into behaving."_

 _Clearly uncomfortable, he cleared his throat and prompted, "You said you had information about The Charmed One's baby?"_

 _Lamia smirked, running a fingernail down his throat to the collar of his shirt, stopping at the top button. With the flick of a finger she undid it and started tracing patterns on the skin underneath. Coming up on her tail, she moved her mouth to his ear, breathily countering, "Mine first."_

 _He grabbed her shoulders, firmly pushing her away. "You get nothing until Wyatt Halliwell is safe. That was the deal."_

" _Oh, Young One," she said with an airy laugh. "You wanted information not salvation. Those were the terms, and I will meet them once you do."_

 _Sage eyes flashed emerald, angelic face hardening impressively. "Tell me, Lamia, or I leave and don't come back."_

" _To be fair, I suppose I'm too weak for you to break the curse tonight," she said, slipping her tail around him several times to prevent him from escaping. Finger running down his chest, she freed more buttons as she went on, "So tonight, I make you a special offer. Let me feed on you, and I'll tell you what is done to the boy and when."_

 _Anxiously eyeing the scaly tail encircling him, Chris' jaw twitched. He knew he was trapped in more ways than one. He nervously licked his lips, and she could practically see the wheels of his mind spinning frantically for a way out. It was cute. Futile. But cute._

" _I can't bewitch you, Young One," she reminded him. "Your heart is untouchable, but your body . . . that you can offer freely. The decision is yours."_

" _I let you feed on me," he began slowly, "you tell me the exact date and details of what happens to the boy?"_

 _Lamia flipped her fire red hair behind her shoulder smiling coyly. "I will give you all but the who. You get who when you break my curse."_

 _Chris let out a huff. "Fine. Just get it over with."_

 _In response, the demoness uncoiled her tail from around him and plucked free the last of his buttons. His shirt fell loosely open revealing his subtly sculpted abs and chest. She fisted the fabric, pulling him forward to press her bare breasts against him and claim his mouth with hers._

 _When he did not respond in the slightest, she pulled back to frown at him. She gently scolded, "I can only feed if you enjoy it."_

" _Yeah, that's not happening," Chris retorted, not bothering to hide his disgust._

 _Lamia smiled, shaking her head at his naivety. "You forget, I am a master of coaxing pleasure. Just close your eyes. I'll tend to the rest, Young One." When he didn't immediately do as she asked, she challenged, "Giving up on the child then?"_

 _The young man took a stealing breath, face full of horrible resignation. He closed his eyes, and she didn't fail to notice with sick pleasure how his Adam's apple quivered as he sucked his lips into a tight line. Every inch of him had gone rigid with awful anticipation. Making him moan in pleasure despite his obvious repulsion of her was going to be a fun challenge._

 _Grabbing his hands, she placed them on her chest, guiding them to caress her as she took deep, erotic breaths to match the strokes. Voice hypnotic, she breathily whispered in his ear, "Picture your lover. Imagine these are her breasts. Soft. Supple. Wonderfully warm under your hands."_

 _She used his fingers to tease her nipple, and when it stiffened, his breathing hitched, and lips parted involuntarily. The demoness took the opportunity to slip her tongue deep inside his mouth, thoroughly, expertly exploring. She kissed, nipped, and sucked until his lips were beautifully swollen._

 _Under her skilled ministrations, the young man began to lose himself in the heated embrace, his tongue tangling with hers as one hand fisted in her hair while the other worked her breasts, messaging the flesh, rolling the nipples between his fingers and teasing the tips with the pad of his thumb making her purr in pleasure. She knew he was forgetting where he was, who he was with, the passion he was feeling meant for someone in his mind's eye. When his hand started heading to her lower back, she moved it up before he felt scales and the spell was broken._

 _She buried a hand in his shaggy brown hair, grabbing a silky handful giving a firm tug until he involuntary groaned into her mouth. Her other hand hungrily ran up his hard abs to his firm pecs. She raked her fingernails back down his chest leaving light red marks and making him sharply inhale._

 _Using his hair to yank his head back, Lamia moved her mouth to his throat sucking hard on his pulse point before leaving a hot, moist trail up to his ear. She ran the tip of her tongue along the ridges then switched between sucking and nibbling the lobe. At the same time, her hand returned to his stomach, lightly tracing the lines of his muscles before inching tantalizingly lower bit by bit to the waistband of his jeans. She slipped a finger underneath and ran it back and forth over his pelvis._

 _She felt him go hard against her hip, and smiled about her victory over his body. Wanting to push him over the edge, she rocked her hips forward using a slow steady rhythm to rub against him over and over until a wonderful, deep throaty sound ripped free from his mouth, and his fingers dug firmly into her shoulders._

 _Feeling he was quickly reaching the point where she could feed, she pulled him onto the bed. She unbuttoned his jeans, slipping down the zipper while firmly fixing her mouth to his. Her hand slid under his pants, and she was pleased as she felt the tightness in his briefs from being engorged. When she ran her fingernails across his inner thigh his hips jerked up and a rumbling moan slipped into her mouth along with the first glorious taste of the man in the form of a twisting white light._

 _Feeding was intimate. Not just because sexual pleasure was the trigger but because she took the very essence of a person in the act. The first sample of Chris Perry had been the most devine morsel of life force she'd experienced in all her years. Pure. Passionate. Powerful. It was utterly enrapturing, but she had to be careful. Taking too much of him would leave the boy dangerously deprived if not dead. Still, she needed more. Craved it now._

 _Running a fingernail up the back of his shaft, she teased the tip of him with her thumb making him writhe under her, causing more precious light to pour out of his mouth into hers. The feel of his essence entering her, nourishing her, made her swell and throb with ecstasy. She threw her head back as potent satisfaction coursed through her. He was addictive. More addictive than any she'd ever tasted before. It would be so easy to take all of him. Devour him whole._

 _Not wanting to accidentally kill him, she knew she needed to end it quickly lest she be tempted not to stop. She took him firmly in her hand, slipping up and down his stiffness with fevered passion. His hips bucked beneath her, his breathing becoming little more than desperate panting in her mouth. With each whimper of need, she devoured more of him until she was glowing with his white light. When he spasmed in her palm with hot, liquid release the blast of energy from him struck her harder than any physical orgasm, and she lifted her lips from his to cry out in ultimate pleasure._

 _At the sound of her scream, Chris' eyes popped open. Taking in the sight of her, his face contorted into horror and disgust. The sage eyes were locked on the monstrous tail now lying over his legs. The color drained from his face, and he lurched as though about to be physically ill. Voice sounding broken, he uttered, "Oh God. What did I do?"_

 _Resting her chest on top of his, Lamia ran lazy circles on his arm with her fingertip. "You gave me the most satisfying meal I've had in ages, Young One. I can only imagine how much better it will be next time when I have you inside me."_

 _He cringed, swallowing hard. It was clear he was struggling to get a grip on his tumultuous emotions. When he tried to sit up and his arms gave out sending him falling backwards, she saw actual panic flash in his eyes._

 _Lamia found the fear of a strong man an incredible turn on. She'd have to remember how sexy Chris looked this way. After all, fear and pain were her other specialities aside from sex, and she loved nothing more than to mix the three._

" _Why can't I move?" he asked, the slightest tremor to his voice._

" _I drank too deeply," she answered, the corner of her mouth curling up at the memory. "You'll recover soon enough."_

 _Letting out a calming breath, he said, "Then I kept my part of the deal, Lamia. Now tell me what happens to Wyatt."_

 _She rolled her violet eyes at him. "Very well. Wyatt Halliwell will be kidnapped by a powerful man. He's gone from his family quite some time before they find him, and confusion and evil touch the child during this time, changing his fate. It happens on November 16th of this year."_

" _November 16th?"_

 _She nodded, nuzzling his neck up into his hair inhaling in his scent. "Mhmm. Mean something to you?"_

 _He closed his eyes, pained. Whether by the news or how he'd let himself be her toy, she didn't know or really care. Instead of answering her question, he opened his eyes to fix her with a harsh stare sharply asking, "Who does it?"_

 _Lamia wagged a finger at him. "Oh, no, Young One. You want the who, you know what you must do. Give me what I most desire to break Hera's curse."_

In the present, the demoness growled in frustration. She had come so close! During their last encounter, Lamia had almost ensnared him, but the clever boy ended up overcoming her machinations. Damn beautiful, infuriating man had nearly killed her.

It was why she'd stayed away from his current version. Lamia feared he may remember her, know her weakness and finish her for good next time. Worse, unlike the loner Chris Perry had been, Chris Halliwell was always surrounded by family growing up, and The Halliwells were not to be taken lightly. Therefore, she'd forced herself to give up on her dream of having the curse broken.

Only, Chris Halliwell had looked straight at her without so much as a flicker of recognition. He had no idea who she was, or what she was capable of doing to him. Better still, his heart was open, which would make it child's play to bewitch him. Chris Perry had been untouchable, but Chris Halliwell was vulnerable to her charms. So much so, she wouldn't have to worry about his family interfering. When she was through with him, he'd kill them on her behalf if she asked.

Feeling hopeful for the first time in two decades, Lamia marked Chris that night in the club. She could find him anywhere now, and when she went to him, she wasn't just going to take what she wanted from him. By Zeus, no. She was going to get revenge for the terrible trick he'd played on her all those years ago. She would warp his mind, twist his soul and own the man in every way, and only then, she'd make him break the curse.

Soon, the child of an elder would set her free.

 _000_

Elbow on the window ledge, chin resting on his fist, Chris watched San Francisco go by in a blur of colors. He was vaguely aware of Wyatt fiddling with the radio again, changing the station to the oldies, which was playing a pop song he didn't recognize. As they came up to a red light, he felt his older brother's eyes on the side of his side and let out a frustrated breath.

"Do you plan on sulking the entire time?" Wyatt questioned. When Chris ignored him, he went on, "Melinda has been excited about this art show for months. You promised ages ago you'd be there, and considering she, for reasons completely unfathomable, calls _you_ her favorite brother it will crush her if you're not excited for her."

Chris edged a glare to the driver. "Firstly, not sulking. Secondly, I want this to go well for Mel, which is why I shouldn't be going. The whole family will be there, and you know they won't leave well enough alone when they realize they have me trapped in the same space. Especially Mom."

"Mom is not going to make a scene," Wyatt said, taking a left as the light turned green. "Not in public."

"The woman stops time, Wyatt."

The older man sighed. "I'll run interference, okay? At no time will you be stuck alone with any of them."

Chris leaned his head back against the headrest letting out a breath. "It's not just the family bothering me. I had this really creepy dream last night, and it put me in a horrible mood that I'm having a hard time shaking."

"What was the dream?" Wyatt asked as he pulled the vehicle into the parking lot of the gallery.

"I think there was a giant snake monster after me," Chris started with a frown, trying to remember the fragmented pieces of dream. "I heard this sound - a sort of slithering against dirt - it made all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up."

Maneuvering the car into a spot, Wyatt parked and switched it off. He turned toward his brother with a sympathetic expression. "Considering how terrified of snakes you are I can see why. What happened next?"

"Its massive tail actually wrapped around me," Chris said, shivering at the memory. "It was strange looking, like the scales were shiny and multicolored, hypnotizing in a horrible way." He made a sound of disgust with a matching face. "It felt like cold, wet leather against my skin, and I thought I was going to be sick."

"Anything else?"

Chris shook his head. "Not really. It was all distorted. Mostly the slithering sound and feel of the tail on me. Really strong emotions. In fact, I woke up feeling sick and kind of . . ."

"Kind of . . .?"

"Violated?" Chris said, sounding unsure.

Wyatt tilted his head, pursing his lips as he observed his brother. After a beat he carefully asked, "Do you think it was one of his memories or a regular nightmare?"

"Memory," Chris answered. "One that I think seriously damaged him. Even in the worst nightmares, he's always been stoically strong and determined, but this time he was barely keeping it together, Wy."

The Twice Blessed reached over to put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Just don't let it damage _you_ , Kit. You're not him. Whatever went on with the snake-monster did not happen to you. You are safe, and anything that wants to get to you has to go through me and Excalibur first."

Chris gave him a half smile through an eye roll. "Thanks, but I hardly need big brother to protect me. In case you've forgotten, I'm a badass witch in my own right."

"Uh-huh," Wyatt teased. "Sure."

Exiting the car, the brothers continued to friendly bicker about who was the superior witch. Several examples of Wyatt nearly blowing up the attic trying to make a working potion were shared while Wyatt pointed out how he didn't really need potions very often since he could destroy a demon just by blinking at them.

Reaching the entrance of the striking glass building of Phoenix Flame Gallery, the pair grew silent not wanting anyone to overhear something they shouldn't. They got in line to buy their tickets for the Bay Area College Art Competition. Reaching the desk manned by a pair of hipster looking college kids, the witchlighters pulled out their wallets, paying. Instead of tickets, they received ugly green stamps on the back of their hands.

Following the signs posted on the walls, they went up the stairs to the floor where the student art was being displayed for judging by local area artists. Chris was surprised by how packed the place was for the event. Then again, he had never understood art. In his opinion, it was either incomprehensible or utterly depressing.

"Chris!" a young woman's voice broke through the chatter of the crowd. A moment later, a teenage girl who could have easily passed as a young clone of Piper Halliwell came bursting through the group to throw her arms excitedly around Chris' middle. She beamed up at him. "I didn't think you'd come."

He couldn't help but smile brightly down at her. "And miss my baby sister's big debut? I don't think so."

Wyatt folded his arms over his chest. "What am I chop liver?"

Melinda rolled her eyes but dutifully moved to give him a hug next.

"So," Chris said, rubbing his hands together, "let's see these amazing photos you did, shall we?"

Not needing to be asked twice, Melinda took their hands and started dragging them through the crowds toward the back wall talking a mile a minute about how wonderful all the entries are, pointing out a few of her favorites as they went, and how she really hoped her work was chosen for one of the top three pieces since she could really use the scholarship money.

Stopping in front of a set of four black and white photos on large canvas hanging on the wall, Melinda gestured proudly. "This is me."

The pictures were images all important to their family. A close-up of the triquetra on The Book of Shadows. A side view of one of the towering support beams of The Golden Gate Bridge. A circle of candles as seen from above. Lastly, a sleek black cat whose eyes had been left green looking straight toward them.

Melinda nervously looked to her brothers, chewing on her bottom lip as they took in her work. When they didn't say anything she asked, "Is it awful? Am I being stupid to think I stand a chance? What do you guys think?"

"These are absolutely stunning, Melinda," Wyatt answered, eyes locked on the photos. "I especially like the cat." He edged a grin to Chris, "What do you think, Kit?"

"A guy accidentally turns himself into a cat one time as a kid," Chris muttered. He shot an exasperated look to his sister. "How did you get that picture?"

"Mom had an old copy," Melinda answered, not looking the least bit apologetic. "I scanned it and digitally reworked it. It's actually my favorite."

"Mine too," a new voice added.

Chris worked his jaw in irritation and shot Wyatt a look.

Wyatt immediately turned around, plastering a nervous smile on his face. "Mom, Dad, hi. Didn't know you were here." He gave his mother a big hug in greeting before repeating the process with his father. He held his arms out to them. "You guys look great."

"We look the same as we did when you saw us a few days ago," Piper dryly retorted. She gave a smile to her daughter. "I am so proud of you, Melinda. These are really special." Her brown eyes then locked in on her middle child. They melted like chocolate and her voice broke as she addressed, "Chris."

Chris focused on his sister. "I really think you have a shot at winning. These are great. Unfortunately, I can't stay. I love you, and promise I will call you soon though."

The entire gallery full of people suddenly froze, trapped in whatever positions they'd been in at the time Piper Halliwell flicked her hands. The matriarch had tears welling in her eyes as she fixed them firmly on her younger son. "Chris, stop it. I have had it with you running from us. We are your family, damn it, and you will talk to us."

Melinda and Wyatt exchanged matching nervous glances unconsciously moving closer to one another. Leo, braver soul than most, positioned himself between his wife and the son who was entirely too much like her for this not to end terribly.

"Trust me," Chris said lowly, "if you make me do this right now, you're not going to like what you hear."

Piper pushed on, "Why are you so angry? Yes, your father and I kept a secret, but when exactly would you have had us tell you, Christopher? At what point in your childhood should we have shared the fact a future version of you came to the past and was murdered? There was never a right time. Not to burden you with that. Plus, it was extremely painful for us to think of what happened to him."

Chris shook his head. "You really don't get it do you? The pain was part of the problem. Growing up, none of you saw me. You all saw him. Whether it was pain, guilt or whatever else, I didn't exist - only the memory of who he was to each of you."

"That is not true," Piper contended.

"Oh yeah?" he challenged. "Every time I went to Aunt Phoebe for help with something there was this moment before she looked at me where she'd go tense, and she'd say my name with such aggravation. Then she'd see me and put on this huge smile. Suddenly, it was all, 'Sorry, Sweetie, just have a headache. Of course I'll help you.' Growing up, I thought she saw me as her annoying nephew she didn't have time for, but sucked it up because family comes first. Truth was my voice was nails on a chalkboard to her because my other version used to nag her all the time. It wasn't until she saw me, saw I was younger or somehow different, that she realized I wasn't him. My own aunt can't stand the sound of my voice."

Piper blinked thickly obviously shocked at what he was saying. Shaking her head to clear it, she raised a finger. "Okay, so maybe Phoebe had a knee jerk reaction, but she loves you. She still always helped you, right?"

Ignoring her, Chris crossed his arms and went on, "Then there was Aunt Paige."

"Oh, come on now," Piper challenged, "Paige has doted on you all your life. Don't think I don't know all the things she let you get away with when you were a boy."

"Exactly," he countered. "She didn't let anyone else get away with half of the stunts I pulled. Plus, she was always sneaking me candy or special gifts. I thought it was because I was her favorite-"

"You were," both Wyatt and Melinda said.

Chris edged them a heated glare before returning his attention to his mother. "Only her favoritism was guilt induced not because I was special to her. She watched him die. Couldn't save him, and Paige the super-witch couldn't stand the idea she was helpless to protect him, so she tried to make up for it with me."

"How is that a bad thing?" Piper questioned in exasperation.

"Because it wasn't about me," Chris returned with equal exasperation. "We are not the same, and I don't want to be someone's therapy tool."

Leo tried, "I don't think that's what happened, Chris. They do honestly love you for you, but yes, their experiences with your other version affected them. Can you blame them?"

"No," Chris said with a bitter shake of his head. "Then again, they were the least of it. You two were the ones who raised me in the shadow of a ghost. Shaped my whole life based on your relationships with a dead guy."

Looking stricken, Leo softly asked, "What did I do wrong? I thought we were close. Thought we had a pretty good relationship this time."

"This time," Chris repeated. "There it is right there. I didn't have a relationship with you aside from the current one, which yes, Dad, until recently was amazing. Except for these times when I would see you looking at me when you didn't think I was paying attention, and you looked so horribly _sad_. I didn't know why. I thought maybe I was disappointing you somehow. Then, whenever we fought, if I raised my voice you flinched. Like I was going to hit you or something. It made me feel like I was a horrible son."

The father's blue eyes grew moist. "No, Chris. No. I am so proud of you. I never meant to make you feel that way. All I ever wanted was to be the father you deserved."

"I know," Chris said more gently. "It's why you and I are going to be fine. Eventually. I just need some time."

"All right," Piper gestured with her hand. "Tell me. What horrible, awful thing did I do?"

Wyatt winced. "Mom, don't. He's not ready. Besides, today is supposed to be about Melinda, remember?"

The Halliwell matriarch ignored her eldest, focusing on Chris, who had dropped his eyes to the floor looking like the little boy who had broken her window playing with a ball in the house. She tried to capture his eyes, but he wouldn't look at her. "Chris? What? Come on. Out with it. What did I do that was so bad?"

"Nothing," the soft answer came. When he looked up his eyes were shining. "You never did anything. You forgot about me. Brushed me off like an inconvenience. Hell, I didn't have a birthday party until I was five, and only because I asked Dad if I could have one like Wyatt always did."

Piper shook her head. "It wasn't like that, Chris. We had so many awful things happen around that time. Zankou and The Ultimate Battle. It had nothing to do with you."

Chris huffed. "Right. Except it kept happening my whole life. When I was little I thought it was because you were busy with work and all the responsibilities of being a Charmed One. As I got older I noticed you had time for Wyatt and Mel. It was just me. I'd try to tell you about my day, and you'd give a dismissive wave of your hand. Tell me, 'Not now, Chris'. I'd come to you with a problem, and you called me neurotic. To loosen up and stop worrying so much. Whenever I tried to share anything with you, it was like you'd heard it all before and didn't want to rehash it. The fact is you don't know me. You didn't bother trying because you thought you already knew it all."

Piper's mouth fell open, head shaking in denial. "I do too know you. You're my son. My peanut. Of course I know you."

Chris folded his arms. "Okay. Fine. Food is the most important thing to you as a chef. Tell me, what's my favorite meal?"

"Easy," she said, "steak with garlic mashed potatoes."

Wyatt put his hand over his eyes groaning at the same time Melinda's face fell to disappointment as she breathed, "Oh, Mom."

The Charmed One looked to her other two children, confused. "What?"

Melinda softly answered, "Chris is a vegetarian."

"No, he's not," Piper argued. "I've made that meal for him hundreds of times, and he devoured it."

"That wasn't me!" Chris cried throwing his hands up. "I haven't eaten meat since I was eighteen, but you don't even know something that basic about me. You assume because he loved steak I do too. You assumed because he adored his mother I would too. You didn't have to try, so you didn't."

Unable to stand being in the same space as his mother for another second, Chris stormed past her, ignoring the tears he saw starting to slip off her lashes. He couldn't think about the fact he'd just made his mother cry. Otherwise, he'd cave and forgive her, and honestly, she didn't deserve it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Not really thinking about where he was going, he pushed his way through the crowd, jogged down the stairs and headed for the exit. Throwing open the doors, they slammed against the wall as the cool winter air rushed into his face.

"You break anything you're buying it," a smooth alto commented.

Chris turned to find a beautiful woman with long dark hair, matching eyes and a curvy but fit body leaning against the wall of the building taking a drag from a cigarette. While she had sounded stern her eyes had a teasing light to them.

"Want one?" She held out a white carton. "You looked stressed."

"You mean a cancer stick?" he asked with a smirk. "Solid pass."

The woman sighed, looking at the one between her fingers. "Yeah, I really need to quit. I just can't with all these teenagers and their obnoxious parents. Plus, crowds make me nervous."

Chris nodded. "Not a fan of those myself, but my little sister is competing, so I had to at least make an appearance."

"Oh yeah? Which piece?"

"Black and white photos. Bridge, cat-"

The woman smiled. "I actually really liked those. Especially the cat. Something in the eyes was truly captivating. Like I was looking into an old soul. I was thinking about acquiring that piece for a photography exhibit I'm putting together."

Based on the fact the woman was clearly not in college, Chris put the pieces together and his eyebrows went up in surprise. "You run this place?"

"Own it," she clarified after taking a drag. "I specialize in antiquities but love all art, so it seemed a natural transition from my old job at a local auction house." She quirked a brow at him. "Let me guess, not an art fan?"

He shrugged. "Don't get it personally."

Taking one last long drag before rubbing out the bud in the trash can, she pulled a card out of her coat pocket handing it to him. "I find people who don't love art haven't been exposed to the right medium. Call my office sometime, and I'll give you a private tour." She smiled flirtatiously, and it made his stomach flip. She suggestively finished, "Bet I can find something to excite you."

Mouth suddenly dry, he could only nod in response to her obvious come on. Something about her made him feel like a hormonal teenager all over again. All sweaty palms and nervous flushing. It didn't help when he looked into her eyes his heart kept jumping, and he would have sworn he had seen her somewhere before.

"Nice to meet you, Chris," the woman said with a twinkle in her pretty brown eyes. "Hope to hear from you soon."

As the woman sashayed away, he watched her go in a way his feminist family would not approve of. It wasn't until the door shut behind her he realized what she said. She'd called him by name. A name he hadn't given. Instinct made him look down at the card in his hand.

Bianca Bishop - Art Dealer

Chris' mouth fell open, head jerking back up to the door. Could it really be her? The woman who had haunted his dreams? Possibly his soulmate. How had she known his name? Was she getting the dreams too? Fully intending to run after her, he never got the chance.

A fruity scent filled the air and breathing it in made his mind grow dull, his surroundings swirling into vague shapes and colors. He was only semi aware when arms wrapped him up from behind spreading an impossible heat through his body. Warm lips left a moist kiss on his neck sending a jolt of pleasure straight through him, and all coherent thought vanished in its wake.

"Time to go, Young One."

TBC . . .


	3. Consumed by Fire

Firstly, I am so overwhelmed by the positive response to this story. Thank you so much for the kind words of encouragement. They have kept my muse really inspired, which means faster updates :) Special thanks to sise87, Charmed 2 meet U, kkarrot, I came for Paige, Korzy Potterwell, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, and gabyhyatt for taking the time to review. Each one brightens my day!

Secondly, the second half of this chapter is very dark with quite a bit of profanity and graphic sex. You're either welcome or warned as applicable ;)

Chapter 3

The secret to the immense power of The Halliwells was their bond as a family. The Charmed Ones were not simply sisters but best friends. Each of the sisters in turn was also fiercely protective of and loving to their own families. Teaching their children to always keep the bond of family at the front of their focus, the sisters had created an unusually tight knit group of siblings and cousins. Their family was as interwoven as their crest - always connected and protected within a circle of love and light.

Only as Chris stormed off and the indomitable Piper Halliwell burst into tears, Wyatt felt dread settle thickly in the pit of his stomach. Their family was being torn apart, and he had no idea what to do to fix it. How to even start repairing something broken before his little brother had even been born.

"He hates me," Piper said as Leo wrapped his arms around her, trying to offer what comfort he could. "My son thinks I don't love him. Oh God, Leo, how could he think that?" When her husband opened his mouth, she pulled away to wave him off. "No, I know how. I didn't even know he was a vegetarian. Me, the professional chef, didn't realize my own son doesn't eat meat. Hasn't in five years. What else don't I know?"

It wasn't until Melinda nudged him with her elbow Wyatt realized the last question had been directed to him. His mother was turned toward him, tear stained face hardened into pure determination. Shoulders sagging, he tried, "This is a conversation to have with Chris."

"Wyatt Matthew Halliwell," she firmly began, "your brother won't even stay in the same room with me. So, you will tell me what else you know I don't, and you will do it right damn now."

Under the wrath of the eldest Charmed One, not even The Twice Blessed could endure. He sighed. "Chris has a paralyzing fear of snakes. He hates the color green because everyone always bought him clothes in that color growing up. In high school when you used to assume Chris disappeared to go demon hunting, he was actually at his girlfriend's fooling around. In college he made extra money by singing with a cover band, which he still does for fun sometimes. And, um, I don't really know what else it is you may not know."

Melinda raised a hand. When everyone looked her way, she said, "For the record, Chris' favorite meal is eggplant parmigiana."

Piper seemed to sag under the weight of all she had never realized about her middle child. She hugged herself, nodding as she absorbed the information, brown eyes focused on nothing. The Halliwell matriarch didn't even register as her powers wore off on the crowd, and everyone reanimated around her.

"Piper?" Leo questioned, putting a hand on her back.

"He was right," Piper murmured brokenly. "I assumed. I assumed I knew him. I assumed we were close. I am a terrible mother."

Melinda and Wyatt both shook their heads offering silent rebuttal to her words, but neither of them could seem to actually find it in them to say anything. The last look on their beloved brother's face - crushed and disappointed - prevented them from doing so.

"Melinda," an echo of voices cut into the tension.

Wyatt couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight of Paige's twin daughters. Ever since they'd left for college they'd each been trying to find themselves as individuals, which somehow wound up with them doing everything in their power to be different from each other. While Kat had kept her sandy brown hair naturally long and wavy, dressing in a blue sweatshirt, jeans, and white heels, Tamora died her hair black, sporting an edged bob toward the front and a shorter length in the back, dressing in a black long sleeve shirt, purple plaid skirt, black tights and red sneakers.

Tamora noticed the odd expression on her cousins' faces first asking worriedly, "What happened?"

Melinda opened her mouth to start explaining but was cut off by Paige's voice growing closer as she announced, "You guys seriously have no idea the day we have had. Henry and Jr are currently at the hospital because my son decided today was the day to try taking his skateboard down the railing of the stairs at the park. Broke his arm. Piper, I swear I don't know how you managed two boys."

"Aunt Paige," Wyatt gestured with his head to his mother who had dived back into his father's arms at the mention of her sons.

Reaching the group, Paige's shoulders heaved in a heavy sigh at the sight. "Let me guess, Chris versus your mom and your stubborn little brother won?"

Melinda, explaining to her cousins as much as her aunt said, "It wasn't pretty. You know how he gets when backed into a corner."

"Brutally honest," Kat said while Tamora offered, "Rapier tongued."

"Hey, everybody, I am so sorry we're late," Phoebe's voice floated to the group next. The middle Charmed One was already gesturing with her hands and talking a mile a minute by the time she reached them, oblivious to the mood. "The book signing went late and then when I checked in with Coop he, Parker and Peyton all caught the flu, so I had to run all the way home to get PJ, and . . ." She paused as she finally noticed the somber looks on everyone's faces, and hers fell. "What's wrong? Did Mel not place?"

Phoebe's oldest daughter, PJ, who bore a striking resemblance to her namesake, the late Prue, worked her way to her cousins, mouthing, "What's wrong now?" All the other kids let out heavy breaths, shaking their heads and huddling together while watching the adults with worried expressions. Realizing if she wanted answers she'd have to wait, PJ put an arm around Melinda in comfort and focused on their parents with the others.

Paige put her hands on her hips. "No, Pheebs, seems our surly nephew strikes again."

Not quite sure what to make of the statement, Phoebe looked to her older sister for an explanation.

"Chris hates us," Piper said. "He thinks you can't stand the sound of his voice because his other self annoyed you, and Paige spoils him from guilt over his death, and he depresses Leo, and I'm truly the world's worst mother because I really don't know him. I mean, honestly, everything he said was true, and I didn't see it. I didn't stop it. I didn't _try_ with him."

Phoebe hurried to her sister's side, immediately wrapping her in a hug. She smoothed down the older woman's silky hair, soothing, "You are a great mom, Piper. We all make mistakes, but it's going to be okay. Chris loves us. I know he does. He's just angry right now, but we can fix it. We _will_ fix it, Sweetie."

"What are you going to do?" Paige challenged. "Lock him in a crystal cage until he listens?"

"Paige," Phoebe chastised, "this isn't funny. It's been months and things are only getting worse."

The youngest Charmed One rolled her eyes. "Because none of you listen to the poor guy. He wants space. Sure Chris loves all of us, but if you keep nagging the kid he's going to run for the hills every time."

"Speaking of which," Leo cut in, directing to Wyatt, "since he won't talk to any of us, could you go check on him? Make sure he's okay?"

Wyatt glanced to Melinda. Today was supposed to be about her big photography debut, and as Chris had correctly guessed, chaos had ruined it. His little brother was never going to let him hear the end of it. Still, he silently asked permission of his baby sister, not wanting to play favorites between his siblings.

Melinda smiled, reading her oldest brother easily. "Go. I'm fine. I've got my girls."

The twins nodded, wrapping their arms around Melinda too. All of them were the same age, so the four young women had always been more like sisters than cousins, practically inseparable. While Melinda was close with her brothers, Wyatt knew PJ and the twins were often her go-to for emotional support. They just understood each other more easily while he was always the one to comfort Chris and vice versa.

"Call me as soon as you find out the results of the competition," Wyatt told her. "I want to hear all about it."

"Call me as soon as you find our idiot brother," Melinda tossed back. "Tell him he owes me a brother-sister coffee date as recompense."

Wyatt laughed. "Will do."

Giving his sister a kiss on the cheek and nodding gratefully to his cousins for looking after her, Wyatt took off following the path he'd seen Chris use. He hurried down the stairs to the main level of the gallery. It was much less crowded down here, but looking around the large space, he didn't see his brother anywhere.

Reaching out with his whitelighter abilities, he sensed Chris just outside the entrance. Only as he started in that direction, he was startled to find his brother suddenly disappear from his radar. There were only two reasons why he wouldn't be able to feel his brother's presence. One, his idiot brother had gone to The Underworld to hunt demons alone. Two, his idiot brother had gotten himself very seriously hurt. Either way, Wyatt was going to kill him when he found him.

Seeing a smartly dressed woman in black slacks and a white flowing blouse with a black leather coat who had come in from outside a few minutes earlier, Wyatt hurried over to her. "Excuse me, Miss?"

The woman's shoulders tensed, back going rigid at the sound of his voice. She turned around slowly, brown eyes glinting sharply as she fixed him with a hard stare. While she was unbelievably pretty, there was a harshness in her expression which made her appear extremely cold. Her smooth alto voice was tightly controlled when she asked, "What do you want?"

Frowning at the hostility, Wyatt raised his hands in front of him. "Listen, I'm really sorry if I'm bothering you, but I'm looking for my brother. It's important. He could be in trouble. Did you happen to see a young guy storm out of here? About six feet tall, brown hair and green eyes?"

The woman's harsh face shifted quickly to concern. Like a flash she had his wrist, twisting it sharply to force him to follow her out of the main room and into an office. No matter how hard he tried to pull away, she manipulated the joint with painful mastery to literally force his hand. Only after she had shut the door and drawn the curtains did she release him.

Rubbing his injured wrist, Wyatt glared at the woman. "What was that about?"

"I know who you are, Wyatt Halliwell," the woman said. "More importantly, I know what you are, so when you say you're looking for Chris it means you can't sense him, which means he's not in trouble he's in terrible danger. Tell me right now what's going on."

Wyatt blinked. Several times. Slowly. Finally, he managed to ask, "Who are you?"

"I'm someone who loves him," she answered. "In another life, he loved me too."

The Twice Blessed felt his mouth fall open but was helpless to close it. He pointed at her, stammering, "You? You're Bianca? You actually remember him?"

"I remember everything."

"How?" Wyatt asked.

Bianca folded her arms answering, "Easy. Before he went back in time Chris cast a spell on both of us. He wanted to make sure we didn't lose one another if he succeeded in changing our future, so he used the magic from the Halliwell line to assure we'd always remember."

"You grew up with those horrible memories?"

"I only started remembering a couple of years ago," she replied. "Once I got a handle on the memories, I came looking for Chris. Only, he was with someone else back then, and it was pretty clear he had no memory of me or our old lives. He looked really happy though, which was all I wanted for him, so I stayed away. Figured if he ever remembered, he'd find me."

Wyatt shook his head, a smile forming. "He's been dreaming about you for about a year now. Only he couldn't ever remember enough to find you. My guess is only getting pieces of memories is the personal gain consequence of Other Chris casting that spell."

"So I was right? He really remembers nothing of the other timeline?" Bianca softly questioned. "Of our life together?"

The Twice Blessed's smile fell. "No. I'm sorry. The only parts of his dreams he can hold onto at all when he wakes up are the parts about you, but they're really vague. The rest fade after a few minutes." He frowned, remembering, "Oddly enough the one last night about a snake monster rattled him pretty badly. He was still upset by it when we got here this afternoon."

Bianca tilted her head, brow furrowing. "Did you just say a snake monster?"

"Yeah, he said he could hear slithering and feel the tail," Wyatt confirmed. "Why? Does it mean something to you?"

The woman put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. She spoke more to herself than him as she muttered, "He wouldn't be so stupid. I warned him she was too dangerous, begged him to stay away from her. Only the dream would mean they are connected so . . ."

"Who?"

Instead of answering, Bianca grabbed his arm and shimmered them out front. Wyatt immediately pulled away, checking to make sure no one had seen them. Moving his head after being shimmered made the world spin, and he swayed, leaning his hand against a wall for support.

"You all right there, Your Highness?" Bianca dryly questioned.

"Are you insane?" the man hissed. "Does exposure mean nothing to you? Also, you _shimmer_? My brother fell in love with a demon?"

"Sensed no one around, and not a demon - A Phoenix Witch," she absently answered, checking the area for clues.

Wyatt, queasy from the use of dark magic on him, swallowed thickly. He wondered, "And what is a Phoenix Witch?"

"Ancestors were murdered during the Salem Witch Trials. Got pissed about it, developed demonic powers, and became neutral assassins."

"Uh-huh," Wyatt absorbed. He muttered, "Of course, Chris would fall for the bad girl."

Ignoring him, Bianca plucked a fine piece of red hair from the ground and sniffed it. She immediately let out an impressive string of curses. She whirled around to Wyatt. "You need to gather your family back at the manor as soon as possible. We're going to need all The Halliwell firepower you can muster."

Wyatt paled, his heart sinking into his stomach. "What? Why? What's going on? Where is my brother?"

"Only one demon I know excretes a fruity smell like this," Bianca said. "She is very old and very dangerous, and if I'm right, my idiot fiance decided to make her very angry at some point. I think she took this Chris to get even, which means we don't have much time."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Wyatt couldn't help but be amused at how Bianca used the same loving insult for Chris he and Melinda always used. The rest of him was too scared to find any humor in anything right now. He forced himself to focus as he asked, "Much time before what?"

Bianca's brown eyes flashed with a fear matching his own. "Before she destroys his soul."

000

Chris was really only aware of the heat. It fevered his mind making his thoughts slow and confused. His blood was burning through his veins, pooling into his heart making it beat erratically fast. It was spreading the unbearable warmth everywhere. Every inch of skin seemed scorched. He felt like he was going to melt from the inside out.

It's why when the hands slid up his shirt, he closed his eyes and soaked in the coolness of their touch, the wonderful way they traced his abs, making the muscles tighten. Why when lips frantically worked their way up his neck until they crashed into his, he didn't wonder who they belonged to because with every kiss the horrible burning was alleviated just a little.

The witchlighter pulled the body closer to his, wanting to press as much of the healing touch against him as possible. He slid his too hot hands under what felt like silky fabric and ran them up the wonderfully soft hips and sides of his partner to the perfectly shaped breasts, which he massaged, toying with the nipples with the tips of his fingers until they were nice and hard. He heard himself give a throaty rumble of appreciation without realizing he was doing it.

Chris kissed and touched every part of the mysterious balm to his distress, frantic in his need for contact. He could hear the sensual sound of a woman moaning, and it spurned him on. So focused on his ministrations he didn't even realize when his sweater got yanked over his head. Not until he was roughly shoved backward into the cold cavern wall and rock bit into his shoulder blades.

Cavern. Cavern? His fuzzy, foggy, fevered brain locked in on the word. It was important. What did it mean? Underworld. He was in The Underworld. Why? How did he get here? Why was he going hot and heavy with a woman in The Underworld? Who was she?

Somehow the words must have tumbled out of his mouth because his partner suddenly released a cold, malicious laugh. She pulled out of his arms, pushing him back into the jagged wall as he tried to reach her. Her silky voice asked, "You wish to know who I really am, Young One?"

Seeing her for the first time, she was gorgeous. Tahitian red hair past her shoulders, framing a stunning face with mesmerizing violet eyes. She was wearing a flimsy, silky red top with matching panties, showcasing her perfect chest, shapely figure and long legs. Only then, with a dark glimmer in her eyes, she snapped her fingers and scarlet horns twisted from her forehead and matching wings spread out from her back.

Chris' brain flooded with disgust. She was a demon. He'd been making out with a demon. The worst part was his body very much wanted to continue. It was thrumming and hot with desire for this _thing_. He tried to make the want go away. Reminding himself he was a Halliwell. He vanquished demons. Only, his fevered body wasn't having it.

"My name is Lamia, Young One," she all but purred, moving closer again. She ran a taloned finger down his chest drawing blood, and he was ashamed to say when he hissed it wasn't all in pain. She stooped to run the tip of her tongue over the wound, lapping up his blood and licking her lips. Pressing against him, she breathed in his ear, "You're even more delicious this time."

The part of his brain still working cringed and wondered what the hell that meant. It shouted at his hands to push her away. Telekinetically hurl her across the room. Only they didn't. Instead, under her spell, his hands betrayed him and slid under her silky top to fondle her breasts again while his mouth laid moist kisses on her collarbone.

"Tell me you want me," she huskily demanded, hands carding through his hair.

His mental voice told her to go to hell. His actual voice purred, "So, so much."

The demon pulled back again, and the loss of contact made his body physically hurt, boiling under the insatiable heat. He was going to melt if he didn't have her. Spontaneously combust. It was an agonizingly painful itch he felt compelled to scratch or die trying.

"If you want me," Lamia taunted, "take off your pants. Nice and slow."

The version of Chris Halliwell watching in his mind was seething in rage. He was going to kill this demon bitch. Deep fry her extra crispy the moment he figured out how to get control back over his body. Trying to break her hold on him, he whispered a spell into his thoughts over and over, pleading his mouth to please just utter the damn words and free him of this monster.

Instead, his fingers deftly unhooked his belt. He slowly tugged it free of the loops and discarded it to the floor with a flourish. Staring into those lovely, awful, violet eyes, he undid the button, watching as her gaze remained focus on his hands the entire time. Down went the zipper. He shimmied out of his pants and stood before her as though waiting inspection.

Lamia floated back to him. She hooked a talon on her shirt ripping it open, revealing her perfect breasts. She pushed them against him, lips curling up as he took a shuddered breath in response to the reprieve from the fire consuming him. Rocking her hips into his, grinding against him, her eyes glowed with pleasure as she glanced down to see him rising to the occasion. She ordered, "Claim me if you want me, Young One."

Chris mentally recoiled. An image of himself shaking his head, shouting 'no' and pulling at his hair filled his thoughts, but it wasn't enough to overcome the flames licking at his organs, flooding his body with need.

Hands on her shapely butt, he lifted her into his arms turning to press her into the wall. He moved a burning hot mouth to her breast, swirling his tongue around her nipple before teasing it with his teeth making her cry out in pleasure. Leaving a moist trail of kisses, he moved between the two mounds while grinding his pelvis into her over and over until he was painfully hard with desire.

Lamia pulled his head from her chest to connect their lips, and a white light sifted from his mouth into hers. It cooled the flames engulfing him, replacing them with a stab of the deepest darkest cold he'd ever felt. Then she started bucking against him, and the inferno reared up again, hotter than before.

Carrying her to the bed, Chris tossed her onto the mattress, watching in fascination as her huge wings spread out majestically behind her. His mind begged him to stop. To run. To attack. His body decided to climb on top of her, rubbing against her, trying to ease the horrible heat and the agonizing ache of his erection.

Fanged teeth bit hard into his neck making him cry out, but the pain was mixed with such an intense pleasure he couldn't tell where one ended and the other started. His body just demanded more of both. Vaguely aware she was actually sucking his blood, his fingers went to her silk panties teasing her over them, making her writhe under him.

His thoughts cried out, "Stop it. What the fuck are you doing? This is sick. Stop touching her!"

Lamia removed her blood stained mouth from his neck. Voice smoothly seductive she asked, "Do you want me to relieve you?"

The mental answer was, "No, I want you to die." The actual answer was, "Please . . . hurts."

Her taloned hand slipped under his briefs, teasing him over and over before she removed her hand with a cruel smirk. She grabbed his hand, sliding it under her panties. "Ladies first, Young One."

"No, no, no," his inner version repeated, feeling sick. He was powerless to stop this though. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't control his actions. He was stuck feeling his fingers slip inside the warmth of the demon. Caress her. Tease her. Make her arch back in pleasure at his touch.

After he'd gotten her thoroughly wet, Lamia roughly pushed his head down between her legs. Her silky voice demanded, "Drink up."

As his traitorous tongue did as she commanded, Chris mentally screamed and prayed to whatever God was listening to make it stop. Had he been able to use his voice he would have gone hoarse with his effort, throat painfully raw. Only he didn't have a voice. He was silenced. Powerless. Trapped.

Worse his body was responding to everything as though he liked it. As if he wanted any of this. He was actually moaning as he tasted the musky sweetness of her, hands tracing patterns on her inner thighs. He was so hard it hurt. His body was hers. Completely and totally under her spell.

Lamia grabbed a fistful of his hair pulling hard, making him gasp, as she jerked him up. She flipped their positions so she was on top. She slipped a talon under the waist of his briefs and ripped them open. Her violet eyes locked on his green. "Beg me to take you."

The real Chris, locked in his own mind, begged one last time, "Fry the bitch! You're a fucking Halliwell damn it! Vanquish her!"

Husky with desire, his voice told her, "Please."

"Please what?" she taunted, running a talon up his thigh.

Breath ragged, hips jerking up toward her, he begged, "Please, fuck me."

Inner Chris sank onto the floor in his mind, covering his head with his arms, rocking back and forth. He was infuriated by his actions. Ashamed of his weakness. Repulsed by what was about to happen. Helpless to do a damn thing about any of it.

Lamia purred, "Your wish, Young One."

The demoness lowered herself onto him, and he gasped at the feel of her, wonderfully tight and moist. She began moving her hips with unmatched skill. Up and down, back and forth. Her hand slipped behind to up the intensity as she expertly rode him making him pant and whimper in pleasure, growing ever closer to climax.

Chris kept his eyes closed, face contorted in the throes of passion. His hands dug into her hips guiding her up and down faster and faster as every thrust extinguished the bubbling, burning heat within. Only when her taloned hands dug into his back hard enough to draw blood did he open his eyes and realize they were flying above the bed. Lamia's huge scarlet wings were flapping to match the grinding of their pelvises while her heels dug into his lower back. The momentary panic of being mid-air was quickly melted away as she passionately kissed him, rekindling the fire controlling his body.

The white light was pouring from Chris now, and Lamia was drinking it greedily. He felt woozy, and the bitter cold inside him was growing like a dark pit. Icy tendrils of death were wrapping themselves around his soul. His vision was going grey at the edges, heart hammering too hard and too fast. He couldn't breathe.

Chris came hard and fast, crying out in time with the explosive release. When he came, Lamia took one long last drink of the white light before letting out a crazed laugh and releasing him. He fell from the air with a bounce on the mattress below.

The act complete, the consuming fire was gone. It was replaced by the aching cold of an emptiness inside his very being. Spell broken, he was able to feel and think freely, and he immediately crawled to the edge of the bed and vomited. He lurched and heaved until nothing remained in his stomach.

"Come now," Lamia scolded, flapping down onto the bed, taking a seat next to him. "That's rather rude."

Green eyes turned darkly on her, burning with hatred. Chris raised his hands toward her fully intending to call upon his powers as a half elder to send thousands of volts of lightning through her, but nothing happened. He whipped a hand across his body wanting to send her flying, but again was unsuccessful. Anger overcoming fear, he growled, "What did you do to me you sick bitch?"

"You'd be wise to speak more respectfully to me," Lamia lowly warned. "I've treated you quite well compared to most, Young One."

Chris wanted to attack her, strangle her if he couldn't use magic to do it, but the attempt to move made him fall to his side in excruciating pain. His skin tingled with hypersensitivity, muscles burned like they'd been torn, and everything was heavy like lead was running through his veins weighing him down.

Lamia ran a hand through his hair, almost lovingly, as he spasmed in pain. "Don't try to move. I made sure you didn't have the strength to fight or flee."

He wanted to pull away from her touch, but he couldn't even gather the strength for that. He sent a scorching scowl up at her instead. "I'm going to kill you for this. I swear."

"Feign indignation all you like," she said, lying next to him. She nuzzled her nose into his neck, whispering huskily, "I fed off your desire. Tasted it. More importantly . . ." She ran a finger up her inner thigh bringing it back in front of his face, showing him the fluid covered tip. "I feel it inside of me as we speak." Then, she put the finger in her mouth, sucking it. "Mmm, so perfect."

Realizing what she was telling him, Chris lurched, dry heaving. Sickness swirled in his stomach, chest tightening so hard he thought his heart and lungs would pop. He started hyperventilating, shaking his head in horror and denial.

Lamia, on her back next to him, feet propped in the air, smiled at him. "With any luck you have broken my curse already." She reached over to stroke the side of his face. "But fear not, Young One, I still won't be done with you. You're mine now. Always. My perfect, divine, skillful toy from now until eternity."

He knew the answer. It was so obvious, but still, he brokenly asked, "How is the curse broken?"

Lamia's blissful face was painfully beautiful as she patted her abdomen. Her violet eyes looked upon him with love as she explained, "When the mother of monsters gives birth to a child with angelic blood descended from the old ones, so ends Hera's curse."

This time Chris' mind and body responded the same way. They both shut down.

TBC . . .


	4. The Day Hope Dies

So glad everyone is enjoying the story so far. I have to say my muse is feeling very loved :)

Special thanks to those who took the time to share their thoughts - guest reviewer, My Name is Prue, I Live 4 Chris, The Witch Way, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, sise87 and Korzy potterwell. Hearing from you never fails to make me smile.

Obligatory warning: Torture in this one. Also a short sex scene. Yup. I'm twisted enough to do both in the same chapter.

Chapter 4

Piper Halliwell was the steadfast glue holding the Halliwell family together. Forced to fill her older sister's role as protector and leader all those years ago, she had developed an incredible inner strength and tough as nails attitude. It's why when her oldest child had told her a few hours ago his younger brother had been taken by a very old, powerful demon, she had not fallen apart in fear or panic. She had gathered the troops at the manor's attic and set to work.

She had just started grinding together rosemary, cypress and yarrow root when she heard the cover to the Book of Shadows slam shut and her baby sister let out a frustrated huff. Glancing up, Piper found Paige standing behind the alter with hands on hips, nose wrinkled and honey colored eyes glaring at their sacred family heirloom.

"Nada," Paige announced. "Hundreds of years worth of information and not even a footnote about this Lamia person. How is that possible?"

Leo, who was sitting on the sofa next to Wyatt, looked up from the book he'd borrowed from Magic School. "Well, from the stories I heard as a whitelighter, Lamia only targets powerful men. Until recently, the descendants of Melinda Warren were all women."

Tamora, perched on the arm of the couch, remarked, "If she wanted a powerful man, why go after Chris?"

Her sister Kat promptly smacked her from her spot on the floor in front of her.

"My source thinks Other Chris may have made her angry," Wyatt explained. "She likely wants revenge."

Piper narrowed her eyes, firmly fixing them on her son. "Yeah, about that source of yours, still not going to share who it is, huh? How can you be sure we can even trust this person, Wyatt?"

The all powerful Twice Blessed Witch grew sheepish under his mother's disapproving look. "I promised I wouldn't say. Apparently, you have history, and it wasn't pleasant. She thought you might try to vanquish her on sight. Besides, if she finds anything out from her contacts she promised to get in touch with me."

The mother made a distinctly displeased sound in the back of her throat, but released him from her penetrating stare, returning her attention to the summoning ingredients she was preparing. Taking her frustration out on the herbs, she started pounding and grinding them down with the mortar more aggressively.

Melinda leaned over to her brother, whispering, "She's totally picturing you right now."

"Yup," he replied.

Phoebe, who was sitting next to Piper dangling an amethyst crystal over a map, dropped it with a loud sigh. Looking up, she announced, "This is a total bust. Aside from a sore arm, I've got nothing. Any ideas?"

"Well," Piper answered, "since the blood to blood spell didn't work, and neither did calling a lost witch, I figured we'd try combining the two. Between The Power of Three and The Twice Blessed, it should have enough oomph to break any wards this Lamia has around her lair and bring Chris back home."

PJ, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet while she bottled generic vanquishing potions at the table next to them, ventured nervously, "And if not?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, Sweetie," her mother answered.

Piper took the athame from the table, pricked a finger on her left hand then, saying her younger son's name as she did so, squeezed a drop of blood into the bowl with the other ingredients. She then handed the blade and bowl to Phoebe, who repeated the process. Paige came over, making a horrible face at the sight of the athame, and said Chris' name while holding her left hand out to Piper, who pricked her sister's finger with zero sympathy and a touch of an eye roll. Wyatt strode over next and added his blood while firmly repeating his brother's name. Then, they chanted in unison:

 _Powers of the witches rise,_

 _Course unseen across the skies,_

 _Come to us who call you near,_

 _Come to us and settle here._

 _Blood of our blood I summon thee._

 _Blood of our blood return to me._

A swirl of golden light appeared in the middle of the attic, but instead of depositing their missing loved one, a familiar black sweater was dropped from the ethereal cloud of light. A blood stained athame was rammed through the crimson stained fabric along with a note.

Phoebe gasped, "Oh god."

PJ had her hand up to her mouth looking like she might be sick. Her brown eyes sought out Melinda, who had choked on a sob.

Tears cascading off her lashes, Melinda was struggling not to hyperventilate. It was clear she was imagining the worst had happened to her beloved brother.

Wyatt hurried back across the attic to pull his sister into a fierce hug. He murmured soothing words while running his hand lovingly over her hair. While his words assured Melinda Chris was fine and not to worry, the young man's brown eyes were shining as he stared at the impaled sweater Chris had been wearing only a few hours ago.

The twins were both staring in abject horror at the sweater, their hands entwined in a rare display of affection for one another.

Leo began to drown in emotion, mouth agape in horror, eyes brimming with moisture at the sight of the blood soaked blade. It had thrown him back into memories from two of the worst days of his life. Images from twenty-three years ago and two months ago overwhelmed him. He'd lost Chris the first time and saved him the next, and he was terrified which way the tie breaker may go.

Piper had gone numb. Her eyes were fixed on her son's shirt, but her brain refused to acknowledge what she was seeing. Refused to consider what it meant. She became stuck, not able to move, not able to think. Breathing and staring was all she could manage.

Paige's hands fisted at her sides, eyes going hard and narrowing at the offending object. She marched over to the sweater, squatting down and picking it up. Pulling the dagger out, she unfolded the note. Her hands shook as she read it.

"What does it say?" Wyatt asked.

The youngest Charmed One looked up to her nephew and recited, "Try such a foolish stunt again, and next time, it will not merely be his sweater." She bitterly shook her head. "When we find this demon, I am so going to orb her ass straight into a volcano."

"The problem is we have to find her first," Phoebe pointed out. She tilted her head frowning as she considered something. After a moment she stretched her hand out toward Paige. "Give me the sweater and the athame. Maybe I can get a premonition."

Paige immediately obeyed, handing her sister the objects.

As soon as Phoebe touched the sweater she inhaled sharply, eyes squeezing shut, and was pulled into a vision.

 _A woman with flame red hair is screaming in pain, beautiful face twisted in agony as her scantily clad body writhes on a bed of white satin. A dagger is piercing her chest, and blue sparks keep running through her body from the point of entry._

 _Between screams, she narrows violet eyes filled with a strange mix of rage and sorrow at an unseen observer. Sounding betrayed she cries out, "How, Young One? Tell me this much before you leave me to die."_

 _Chris' voice responds, "I've experienced true love, Lamia. Your parlor trick can't compare. Thanks for the info about my brother, though, and have fun rotting in the demonic wasteland."_

The image shifted.

 _Chris standing outside the art gallery. The same red haired woman comes up behind him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his neck. Chris' eyes glaze over, and when she seductively tells him it's time to go, he orbs._

Another flash.

 _Chris sitting on his bed in his apartment. His shoulders are slumped, head bowed. A single tear runs down his face as he squeezes his eyes shut. He sucks in his lips as his breath hitches hard. Opening his eyes, they're glistening with liquid pain. Voice shaking, he questions brokenly, "How am I supposed to do this? I can't even stand to look at them. I'm not strong enough. I can't do this."_

Phoebe opened her eyes as she returned to the moment. Seeing the questioning looks on the faces of her family she focused her gaze on Piper. "Wyatt's source was right. Lamia is definitely the one who took Chris. Based on my vision, when Chris was with us in 2004 he tricked her to get information about what happened to Wyatt. He thought he vanquished her but apparently not."

Leo, swallowing through his tattered emotions, put on his patented whitelighter face of calm guidance. He gently prodded, "What else did you see, Phoebe?"

"Uh, well, let's see," Phoebe began, trying to recall as much detail as possible. "The first vision showed a cavern in the underworld with a really fancy bed, but no other details to help us figure out where it might be. Second vision showed her taking Chris outside the gallery. It looked like she had him under a spell of some kind. He actually orbed them away. The last part . . ." She drifted off.

Piper read her sister easily, and shook her head. Voice hard and firm she told her, "No, Phoebe. Whatever it is you saw, it's not happening, so just tell us already. The only way we're going to stop it is if we know what we're up against. It's why you get your visions in the first place."

Phoebe nodded, but couldn't look at Piper or her sister's family as she said, "Chris was back home, but he was broken. I'd never seen him look so defeated and lost. He was actually crying. He kept talking about having to do something, but not being strong enough to do it. Said he couldn't stand to look at _them_."

"Do you think he could've been talking about vanquishing Lamia?" Paige ventured. "Like maybe he's too scared of her to do it this time? Maybe he can't face us because he thinks we'd be disappointed?"

The psychic shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

Piper clapped her hands together. Eyes flashing with the wrath of a protective mother but voice edged with panic she said, "Okay, people, we need to figure out how to find and vanquish Lamia. Let's hear some ideas on how to do that because I am not leaving my son in this demonic bitch's hands another damn minute, are we clear?"

"I don't know about you guys," Paige said, "but I'm out of ideas. Scrying hasn't worked, sensing hasn't worked, summoning hasn't worked, and Phoebe's visions were more alarming than helpful. Whoever Lamia is it's like she knows all the tricks and keeps blocking us."

Piper locked her eyes on her son. "Wyatt, it's time to call in your source. Now."

Wyatt shifted uneasily on the sofa. "I really don't know if that's a good idea. She said she would tell me-"

"I am not asking, Wyatt Matthew Halliwell," Piper snapped. "Summon her ass here _now_."

The Twice Blessed let out breath, nodding. Rising from the couch, he moved to the center of the attic and raised his hands. A moment later the air a few feet in front of him shimmered like a mirage, and a woman appeared.

Phoebe's eyes went wide. "Ironically, did not see that one coming."

"Bianca?" Paige questioned, jaw dropping.

"You!" Piper growled, hands poised to blow up the newcomer.

Bianca shot Wyatt an irritated glare. "What part of 'they hate me and will never trust me' did you not understand?"

"They believe you about Lamia," Wyatt tried. "So, there's, you know, that going for you."

The young woman rolled her eyes then turned to face Piper. "Mind putting down the hands? I love Chris. Just like the first time we met, I'm trying to do everything in my power to keep him safe. Hence why I didn't come here with Wyatt in the first place. I didn't want to distract you, so I've been working on my contacts while you do whatever it is you people do."

Leo's mouth fell open as he realized, "You remember the other timeline."

Before she could answer, Piper scornfully repeated, "You love Chris? Really? You have the nerve to say that after you put a gaping hole in his chest, stripped his powers and drug him back to the future to face Wyatt, who nearly killed him?"

Wyatt's head whipped around to look in horror at his mother. "I what now?"

Melinda put a comforting hand on his shoulder. She whispered, "Probably not a good time."

"I gave my life protecting him," Bianca countered, "and I would do it again. Now focus. The important thing for now is saving Chris. You can go back to hating me all you like once he's away from that monster."

Before Piper could start in again, Leo jumped up between them. Giving his wife a pleading glance to bite her tongue, he turned his attention to Bianca. "We've tried everything we can think of to find Chris or summon him home, but nothing has worked. You were the one who told Wyatt Lamia took him. What do you know about her?"

Bianca crossed her arms, shrugging. "Not much to be honest. Actually, Chris knew far more about her than I did." She clarified, "The Other Chris, as you call him. In the original future, he made it his business to know about every powerful magical being on both sides of the war. He wanted to be able to enlist their help, or failing that, vanquish them."

"Did he ever contact her in your future?" Leo wondered.

The young woman shook her head. "No. I made him promise not to, and while I was alive, Chris never broke a promise to me. I think he crossed her when he was in the past sometime after I died. It would be the sort of loop hole he'd use to rationalize doing it."

"Why did you make him promise?" Tamora asked.

Bianca looked over to her answering, "Lamia was so dangerous my clan called her The Forbidden One. The Phoenix swore never to take contracts on or from her. I don't know about this Chris, but mine tended to bite off more than he could chew at times, and I worried he'd get himself hurt or worse."

Melinda muttered, "No change there."

"What makes Lamia so dangerous?" PJ wondered.

Kat added, "What is she anyway?"

"Lamia was a beautiful queen and gifted sorceress, who as many did, had an affair with Zeus," Bianca began. "In jealousy Hera turned Lamia into a monster - half snake and half human. Only, Lamia was still a powerful sorceress and could shapeshift. It infuriated Hera, so then, she made Lamia watch as she killed her three children right in front of her. It drove Lamia mad - twisted her into something even darker and more dangerous. She blamed not only Zeus for her loss but all men, which is why she feeds on them to sustain her power."

Piper bit her lip, working over what she'd been told. She finally asked, "She's going to try to feed off of Chris?"

Bianca nodded. "More than likely."

"What does that mean exactly?" the mother asked nervously.

The Phoenix let out a heavy breath, eyes shining with worry. She reluctantly answered, "It means she's going to devour his spirit. Take pieces of him bit by bit until he's a shell of who he once was. Until finally, he dies."

"No," Leo growled. "That's not - I am not losing him again. I can't."

Wyatt pinned Bianca with his gaze. "Did any of your contacts know anything? Do you have any leads on how to find Chris?"

Bianca shook her head. "No. The mere mention of her name turned my demonic contacts to useless piles of jello. If they do know anything, they're too afraid to cross her to tell me. So far I have nothing."

Melinda voiced what everyone was thinking. "So we can't scry for him, we can't summon him, visions haven't worked, and no one above or below can tell us anything. What options are left? What do we do now?"

For once the unconquerable Piper Halliwell did not have any answers, and when she realized it, her heart froze in fear and a horrible dread for her child settled heavily in her stomach. The air vanished from her lungs, and she couldn't seem to inhale to capture more. Her mind was stuck on one phrase, which flashed over and over like a broken neon sign: I can't lose him again.

If something happened to Chris, Piper Halliwell knew she couldn't survive it. Not a second time.

000

Extremely groggy upon regaining consciousness, Chris was first aware of being freezing cold. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck were standing on end, and he kept shivering uncontrollably. He instinctively tried to rub his arms to warm up, but in trying to move, his wrists suffered painful resistance, and he heard the harsh clang of metal.

Startled fully awake, his eyes popped open. Taking in the sight of the empty cavern, various torture devices and the nausea inducing bed, Chris realized to his utter devastation what happened had not just been a terrible nightmare. It was a reality he was still trapped in. Literally trapped. His hands were currently cuffed above his head on a suspension bar protruding from the wall.

Looking down at himself, Chris was inordinately relieved to find he wasn't naked as he'd feared at first. Though, he wasn't wearing much. While he was unconscious, Lamia had decided to dress him up in a short white toga with a red sash across the front. Apparently, the demoness had a Greek fetish.

The thought brought bile rising up the back of his throat. It had come from the snarky sarcastic part of his brain, but he belatedly realized how it was probably true. How she had called him her toy, and now had dressed him up like her living doll. He'd been helpless to stop her. Just like he'd been helpless to stop everything else. Suddenly, images of what he'd done and let her do to him flooded his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut, but they continued playing on the back of his lids.

"No," he ground out. He forced his eyes open and took a deep breath. "She does not get to win. I am going to get out of here, and I am going to vanquish her six ways to Sunday. Then, I am going to pretend this whole damn thing never happened. Okay, brain? Okay."

Swallowing down his emotions, Chris scanned the room to make sure he was still alone. Seeing no sign of his captor, he wet his lips, trying to come up with a plan of escape. Not sure if his magic had returned or not, he decided there was only one way to find out. He whispered, "Ancient forces hear my plea. Release these binds and set me free."

Golden light encircled the handcuffs, but immediately, black lightning sparked out from them scattering the golden light into oblivion. The black magic then turned on Chris, striking him from all sides. Each burst felt like a knife cutting into his flesh then zapping him with a high voltage shock. He cried out, tears stinging his eyes as pain flooded him. When it finally stopped, he hung his head in exhaustion, gasping for air.

"Not wise, Young One," Lamia's voice floated into the cavern. "I know how to handle witches. Even those as powerful as you and your family."

Breath still ragged, Chris lifted his head to shoot back, "Yeah? Keep thinking that. It'll be even more fun when my brother shows up, and I get to watch him use Excalibur to hack you to bits."

The demoness, who currently looked entirely human, entered the cavern on the opposite side. She put a covered dish down on a table full of bloody knives, glinting tools and dark potions. She then crossed the room to stand in front of Chris, regarding him with a disappointed pout. She ran her fingers through his hair, stating, "You don't mean that."

Jerking away from her, Chris snarled, "Don't fucking touch me."

Her pretty face turned harsh. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back hard enough he yelped. She hissed into his ear, "I do not appreciate being talked to in such a manner. Next time you address me so viciously I may remove your tongue. Understood?"

Wincing, Chris nodded.

Lamia released his hair. Then, as though the threat had never happened, she gently palmed the side of his face and brushed her lips over his giving a contented hum as she kissed him soft and slow.

Chris turned his head away, green eyes scorching emeralds as he edged a disgusted glare at her. "I hate you. You get that, right?"

The demoness gave an airy laugh and turned away from him, moving back toward the table, shaking her head as though he'd said something ridiculous. When she reached the table, she picked up the covered dish she'd brought in earlier and returned to stand in front of him. Her violet eyes danced with amusement. "You think you hate me, Young One, yet I know you better than those who claim to love you."

As she lifted the lid off the dish, Chris' mouth fell open in shock. It was a plateful of eggplant parmigiana. His favorite meal. A demon knew his favorite meal. His own mother didn't even know he was a vegetarian, but the damn demon knew his favorite meal. It was so wrong on so many levels it made his head spin.

Lamia cut a piece off with a fork, holding it up to his mouth. She coaxed, "Eat up. You'll need your strength. I have a big day planned for us."

"I'm not letting you feed me," he informed her. "Forget it."

The demoness quirked a brow. "Such a wild spirit. I don't wish to break it, Young One. You've grown special to me. However, if you insist on being so unpleasant, I will."

"Unpleasant?" Chris repeated scornfully. "Free my hands. Then I'll show you just how unpleasant I can be."

Lamia smiled, her eyes undressing him as her finger ran down the length of the red sash of his toga. "You remind me of Odysseus. He was fiery and determined and oh so very clever. Circe got to him first, so I never had the pleasure, but I imagine you two would have the same flavor."

"You knew Odysseus?" the witchlighter questioned. He shook his head. "No. I don't care. Don't answer that. In fact, do not talk to me or look at me and definitely get your damn hands off me."

Violet eyes flashing like a terrible storm, Lamia marched over to the table, angrily tossing down the dish. She returned a moment later with pliers. Her hand grabbed his face tightly forcing his mouth open. Her silky voice growled, "I warned you once, Young One."

Chris struggled against her hold, but she was supernaturally strong, and he couldn't get free. Panic surged as he watched her move the pliers toward his mouth. He jerked harder, trying to lock his mouth shut, and failing that, pleaded with her to stop.

"I only give one warning," she said unsympathetically as she put the instrument in his mouth.

His eyes went wide as he felt the clamp close over one of his molars. Heart hammering in his chest, breathing getting erratic, he squeezed his eyes shut just before the demoness ripped his tooth out by the root. Blinding pain twanged through his entire jaw, and he cried out, eyes watering. The taste of copper filled his mouth.

Lamia observed the bloody tooth captured in the clamp of the pliers twisting it this way and that. She casually remarked, "I decided to spare your tongue as it's quite talented in pleasure. Though, each time you wag it at me with such cruelty I will take another one of these." She showed him his own tooth.

Chris spit out blood. "I'm going to kill you. I swear to God."

The demoness tsked him, shaking her head. Without saying a word she stood on her tiptoes and grabbed one of his hands. She put the teeth of the pliers around one of the nails on his left hand.

Panic coursed through his entire body. "What are you doing?"

Without answering she slowly ripped the nail from its bed, tearing nerve endings as blood began pouring out from the vacated spot. A scream tore free from Chris' lungs, the sound so raw it no longer resembled that of a human. Tears of pain slipped from the corners of his eyes as his face scrunched in agony.

Lamia then put the throbbing finger tip into her mouth, sucking on it.

Panting, unable to get his breathing under control, Chris choked out, "I fucking hate you, and if it's the last thing I do, I'm going to watch you burn."

Removing his finger from her mouth, the demoness sighed. "For one so bright, you are a very slow learner. Your mother's stubborn streak I fear." She grabbed a fistful of his face, squeezing hard, aggravating the injury from his missing tooth. When he whimpered in pain, she slid the pliers back in his mouth, jerking another molar out. As the young man cried out, swearing profusely, she clicked her tongue at him. "I warned you, Young One."

Blood seeped down the back of his throat, and Chris gagged and choked on it. Coughing, he half vomited and half spit the thick metallic substance from his mouth. He was shaking, whether from the excruciating pain or the rage, he couldn't say for sure.

Lamia lovingly wiped away the tears from his face before tenderly kissing him. She chided, "Can we try to be civil now? After all, I haven't bewitched you yet because I had hoped we could get to know one another."

"You think I want to get to know you better?" Chris asked incredulously.

The demoness gave him a radiant smile, her hand going to her abdomen. "You are the only man I have cared for since Zeus. You have given me the greatest gift a man can offer a woman. For that, I would like to repay you by allowing you to keep your mind as much as possible."

At the implication, bile rose back up Chris' throat, burning it. He swallowed it down along with another mouthful of blood from the open wounds where his teeth used to reside. He shook his head in denial. "You're lying. If you think it will save you, you're wrong. My family will find me, and they will vanquish you."

Lamia pressed herself against him, her head resting on his shoulder. With a dreamy quality to her voice, she said, "You're wrong, Young One. I do not lie. I feel life growing inside of me as we speak. Life you and I created together."

Forcing himself to fight through the roiling nausea and the images threatening to drive him mad, he snarled, "There is no fucking baby! And there never will be one either because I'd rather die than ever touch you again."

Violet eyes flashed hotly. Lifting her head from him, she roughly yanked his hand down, nearly breaking his wrist as it bent at an impossible angle against the handcuff. Like a bandaid, she ripped off another of his fingernails in one smooth motion.

Chris' head went back as he screamed profanity. His throat was burning and raw from the intensity of his cries. Green eyes were pools of pain, overflowing down his tortured face. He could no longer think clearly. The normally quick mind was short circuited in excruciating pain.

Lamia ran the back of her fingers gently down the side of his face. With a disappointed breath she told him, "We'll try this again another time. Stress isn't good during a pregnancy. Time for you to relieve that which you've wrought."

Chris opened his mouth to offer sharp retort when she kissed him, stealing his opportunity. Instantly, he felt the horrifying familiar warmth spread through his body. He tried to hold onto what he'd been thinking. Tried to cling to the anger and hate and disgust toward this creature. Only the fire burned everything away.

As he began enthusiastically returning her kiss, their tongues clashing passionately, the small part of his mind aware of what was going on screamed in frustration.

When the demoness knelt down and slipped her head under his toga, licking and sucking him until he was hard and throbbing with need, he wanted to sob with shame.

Finally, when Lamia grabbed the suspension bar and wrapped her legs around him, and he screwed her hard and fast against the wall while she literally sucked his spirit out and devoured it, part of him shriveled up and died.

He really was her toy.

TBC . . .


	5. Too Little Too Late

Thanks so much to Korzy Potterwell, sise87 and Naruto Loves FemKyuubi for sticking with me and reviewing the last chapter. Your support is so very much appreciated.

Warnings - References to torture and another lengthier detailed sex scene.

Chapter 5

It had been a month. Thirty days to be precise. Well, thirty days, twelve hours, nineteen minutes and forty-three - no forty-four - seconds. That's how long Chris had been in the hands of a demon. How long the most powerful witch to have ever lived had been powerless to save his own brother. How long Wyatt had felt worthless and afraid and desperate. Especially since this was entirely his fault.

The Twice Blessed was standing in the doorway to his brother's room, staring at the bed, which had not been slept in during the last thirty days, twelve hours, twenty minutes and three seconds. He couldn't stop thinking if only he hadn't been so weak in one lifetime, hadn't broken and succumbed to evil, Chris would be in that bed right now. Since Wyatt Halliwell had been corrupted into becoming Evil Ruler of the World, Chris Halliwell had sacrificed everything to save him and was still suffering because of it.

Their television in the living room spontaneously burst into flames falling off the wall and crashing into the ground. He didn't care. Until Chris was back home, Wyatt wouldn't be capable of caring about anything else.

Their family had tried everything, but they were no closer to finding the missing Halliwell.

Paige had begged The Elders for information, but they were even more useless than usual. A few even went so far as to say it was by Chris' own doing he was currently in such a predicament. Playing with the timeline like he was some kind of God had been dangerous, and this was likely the consequence of his reckless attitude. Wyatt had no idea how his aunt had stopped herself from hurting them. He was still tempted to go up there and wring their sanctimonious necks.

Phoebe had taken multiple vision quests, but they provided no answers. She always saw the same thing. Chris digging through a box in the attic. Face blank, moving robotically, he slowly lifted out the blue triquetra blanket he and Wyatt had used as babies along with Piper's old stuffed bunny, which Chris had loved as a boy. Green eyes completely void, he stared down at the objects in his hands, which were noticeably trembling. No one had any idea what it meant.

Wyatt's parents had called in every magical ally they had, which amounted to nearly the entire magical community. A few creatures confirmed they had seen Lamia once or twice over the centuries, but they didn't know where she kept her lair. The only recent spotting was from a whitelighter, who swore she saw the demoness topside getting food to go from a restaurant. When Wyatt and Bianca went to check into it, no one in the place could remember anything about a striking redhead. She had likely wiped their minds. Another dead end.

Over the last thirty days, twelve hours, twenty-three minutes and six seconds, Wyatt had come to understand why Chris had fallen in love with Bianca in the other timeline. They really would be a perfect fit. While Chris was impulsive and passionate, Bianca was a planner who always kept her cool. They were the living embodiment of fire and ice. A natural balance.

Bianca had worked over every contact The Phoenix had but no one was talking. She and Wyatt had then started scouring The Underworld themselves. She taught him how to blend in at demonic pubs, spy on various sects of evil and interrogate said evil when it seemed they might know something useful. She was kind of a badass if Wyatt was being honest, and it was another reason he knew once Chris met her, he'd fall hard and fast.

 _If_ they ever met.

Wyatt didn't curse very often, but staring at his brother's empty room as the thought of Chris losing the chance to be with his soulmate _again_ crossed his mind, he felt a pressing need to swear. It was under his breath, but he still felt guilty for using such foul language.

"That was hard for you wasn't it?" Bianca's voice remarked from behind him. When he turned around to find she had shimmered into his apartment, she was shaking her head, smirking at him. "Former Source of All Evil and dropping an F-Bomb makes him feel bad. There's irony for you."

Wyatt folded his arms, unamused. "Not me. If I had to carry the weight of everything _he_ did, I would go mad. Nearly did when I found out he even existed, so I'd appreciate you not cracking jokes about it. I would think you of all people would want to forget about him."

"Why? Because he killed me?" Off Wyatt's wince, she sighed. "Like you said, it wasn't you. Though, if it helps, he wasn't all bad either. It's why Chris knew you could be saved. Want to hear something nice he did for us once?"

The Twice Blessed looked dubious. "He did nice things?"

"Halliwells think good and evil is all black and white," Bianca said, "but it's not true. There are infinite shades of grey. Evil You was very grey. He killed people, but he loved and protected Chris. He tortured minions who failed minor assignments, but forgave me for betraying him because we'd once been friends. When he found out Chris and I were together, he threw a dinner party for just the three of us to celebrate. It was actually fun. He joked and laughed for the first time in years. For a few hours Chris and I felt like a normal couple. We were able to pretend the world wasn't falling apart."

Wyatt nodded absorbing the fact his counterpart had a side he hadn't known about or even considered had existed before now. He wasn't sure if it made him feel better or not. Then again, at the moment, feeling good about anything may not be an option. Which led him to ask, "Did you find something?"

Perching on the edge of the sofa, Bianca rested one arm on a bent knee. She didn't answer immediately, working the corner of her mouth between her teeth. Her brown eyes were unfocused as she went over something in her mind.

"Bianca?" Wyatt prompted.

Her eyes flicked up to his face, and determination hardened her features. She finally answered, "I've been doing research. Lots and lots of research. Going over all accounts of anyone who was ever attacked by Lamia or had dealings with her. There are only two stories where the man survived when she targeted them. They had one thing in common."

"Which was . . .?"

"Well, the first man was a widower," Bianca answered. "The second was Chris."

Wyatt thought aloud, "So, they both lost people they loved. Possibly their soulmates. They were broken hearted. Lamia is a seductress, but maybe her powers don't work on people in mourning?"

"Maybe," Bianca said, "but I think it's more than that. You said in Phoebe's vision Chris told Lamia he'd experienced true love, so her tricks didn't work on him, right?"

"Yeah . . .?"

"So what if Lamia's weakness is actually love?" Bianca proposed. "What if when someone's heart belongs to another she can't influence it anymore? It would mean her magic can't beat it either, so whatever spells she's cast or wards she's placed would fail when confronted with true love."

Wyatt folded his arms and shrugged. "Okay, it's a good theory, but how does that help us?"

"I can use your uncle's Cupid ring."

"Uncle Coop already tried using it to find Chris," he told her, shaking his head. "It didn't work."

"Hear me out," Bianca pleaded. "I think Lamia's magic is only vulnerable to romantic love. True love specifically. While your brother may not remember me, I remember him. I love him more than anything. I'm hoping if I'm the one concentrating on our connection, the ring can teleport me to him. I'm just worried the ring might reject me."

Wyatt frowned. "Why would it?"

"The cupids didn't approve of our relationship. In fact, they tried to break us up. A Phoenix was an unsuitable match for the son of a Charmed One and an Elder. They were worried I would be a bad influence." She smiled softly. "Everyone always underestimated Chris. Turned out, he was the one to influence me."

"Uncle Coop isn't like other cupids," Wyatt reassured her. "He believes love is love no matter where someone finds it. The ring is an extension of him, so it won't reject you. I'm sure of that much."

The young woman nodded acceptance. "Okay. Then, call him. It's worth a shot, right?"

In answer, Wyatt yelled his uncle's name.

A moment later, a pink light appeared in the living room, and when it disappeared, Coop was standing before them. The cupid smiled at his nephew greeting, "Hello, Wyatt, what can I do for you?"

Wyatt smiled awkwardly, gesturing nervously with his hands as he explained, "I was kind of hoping, maybe, you might be okay with someone else trying to use your ring to find Chris."

The cupid's smile fell, brown eyes growing sympathetic. "Wyatt, if I couldn't find him with it, I just don't think it'll work for you."

"Not me," Wyatt explained. He pointed to Bianca. "Her. Chris' soulmate."

His uncle closed his eyes, and the ring on his finger began to softly glow pink. A moment later, Coop's eyes shot open, and with mouth agape, he stared in wide eyed disbelief at the young woman. He shook his head. "I can't believe it. Another forbidden love." He grinned at his nephew. "Chris can deny it all he wants, but he certainly didn't fall far from the tree, did he?"

"Guess not," Wyatt returned with a grin of his own. Sobering, he asked, "Do you think it will work?"

"If anyone can use my ring to find him," Coop answered, "it will be her. I can sense an incredible connection between the two of them; though, I get the feeling the match hasn't actually been made yet. How is that possible?"

Bianca softly answered, "I remember the other timeline, and he doesn't."

"But he sort of remembers her," Wyatt added, "in a vague sort of way."

The cupid's eyebrows shot up. "I see. Well, Chris wouldn't be a Halliwell if his love life wasn't complicated." He slid his ring from his finger and handed it to Bianca. He instructed, "Focus on your feelings for Chris. Concentrate on your love for him and put it before all else. When you're ready to beam, say his name, and it should take you to him if it works."

Wyatt put his hand on Bianca's shoulder. When she quirked a brow at him, he explained, "If it works, you'll be entering a very dangerous demoness' lair. I'm not letting you go alone. Besides, I need to save my brother. I owe him everything."

Bianca nodded understanding.

The Twice Blessed held his breath in anticipation, watching as the woman who had quickly become a good friend put the ring on and closed her eyes. It didn't take long before the ring began to softly glow pink. As the light grew in brightness, Wyatt heard Bianca softly utter his brother's name with so much tenderness and love it was bitter sweet to hear.

Then, he and Bianca disappeared in a flash of pink light.

000

Chris didn't know how long he'd been with Lamia. Could have been days. Weeks. Months. Years. Decades. Felt like an eternity. A hellish forever wherein he had been burned alive over and over again. The flames had taken who he used to be and melted him down into someone he didn't recognize. Someone he hated.

It had taken six teeth, all the fingernails on his left hand, several torture sessions, and a dozen forced sexual encounters before Chris Halliwell finally broke. He had no more fight left in him. As ashamed as he was to admit it, numb acceptance was so much easier.

Once his mind stopped focusing on his disgust over what she was and the intense loathing he felt for her - once his mind stopped thinking altogether - the sex was just sex. In the dark moments where he was honest with himself, Chris hated to admit it was mind blowing sex. She could do things to his body he hadn't known possible, and he found over time he began to crave her touch. If he was still capable of feeling, it would make him sick to acknowledge that fact. If his mind wasn't equally numb, he would have recognized the signs of Stockholm Syndrome.

The demoness was a master of mind games as well as torture and sex. When Chris behaved the way she wanted, Lamia rewarded him while reminding him just how little his family knew him or cared about him. Told him repeatedly she was the only one who saw him. Who valued him.

The first time she unchained him, and he didn't immediately try to vanquish her, she let him sleep at the foot of her bed with a blanket instead of chained to the cold, dusty floor with nothing but the short, thin toga. That night she'd stroked his hair like a pet, and told him if his family loved him, they would have come for him by now. His Aunt Paige was one of the craftiest witches in the world, but she didn't care enough to save him in his first life or this one.

The first time he'd let her feed off of him without needing to be entranced, she told him he didn't have to wear the toga anymore and brought him new clothes. While she informed him she would love to see him in green, she knew he wasn't fond of the color, so opted for other shades. Unlike his Aunt Phoebe who bought him green shirts every birthday and Christmas without fail, Lamia knew what he liked and got him what he wanted.

When he had dutifully brewed a stockpile of powerful potions for her at her request, she went on and on about how clever and talented he was as a witch. How in all her years she'd never met another with his mastery of the skill. How in her estimation he was every bit as powerful if not more so than his brother, and it was a shame how no one in his family saw it.

The first time he'd initiated sex, Lamia told him she loved him. She'd then gone topside and brought back all his favorite food for one of the best meals he'd had in ages. They ate by the flickering flames, and she'd asked all about his life and actually listened to what he said. She told him he was special, and his mother was a fool for not getting to know him.

Recently, he'd pleased her so much, he'd earned the right to wander around the lair unchained at all times. For the sake of what little sanity he had remaining, he didn't dare wonder whether it was because she knew his magic was too weak from all the feedings to orb away, or if she simply knew he wouldn't bother trying.

Today, Chris woke up first. He didn't know if it was morning. There was no daylight to tell him one way or the other. It didn't really matter. What mattered was the sleeping woman beside him. His first instinct anymore was to please her. It's why he numbly contemplated how she had to be hungry since she hadn't fed recently, saying he was too weak for her to do so since she'd been drinking of him too much and too often.

Sidling up behind her, Chris wrapped his arm around her middle, pulling her back against him. When a smile formed on her perfect pink lips, he kissed them softly. As a happy hum was the response, he moved his mouth to the base of her neck lightly kissing a trail up to her ear. He breathed, "The hot spring?"

Lamia purred deep in her throat, turning in his arms. Violet eyes fluttered open as she responded, "Young One, you're tempting me. You need rest. You've not recovered from our last session. I'm afraid you were too skilled for your own good. I lost myself and nearly killed you."

The young man's hand slid up her shirt to fondle her breast, tweaking the nipple the way he knew drove her mad. As she sucked in a gasp of pleasure, his teeth teased her earlobe before he challenged, "You need to feed."

Unable to resist him, Lamia slid out of her top and panties before helping Chris remove his sleep pants. When he picked her up to carry her to the suggested destination, she wrapped her legs around him and both her hands fisted his hair while they passionately kissed.

While he could tell Lamia was fully absorbed in their kissing, Chris was thinking about how nice the steaming hot water would feel on his perpetually sore muscles and the wounds still marring his skin. Deep lashes from a whip criss-crossed all over his back. His chest and abs were raked with red lines from her talons. His neck and shoulders had punctures from her fangs. The water would be so soothing.

A few caverns over, a waterfall poured out from the cave wall into a stream leading to a hot bath made of stones. As soon as they were under the waterfall, the young man moaned in pleasure. Lamia assumed it was because she'd started kissing her way down his chest and stomach, creeping ever lower, but it was the wonderful water running over all the cuts and burning muscles. Not that he minded what she was doing with her tongue right now. He didn't mind anything she did anymore. He just couldn't think about it too much.

When the demoness had thoroughly teased him and kissed her way back up to his ear, she huskily breathed, "My turn, Young One."

Obediently, his mouth moved down her throat to her chest. Making a trail between her breasts, he continued down her body, moving ever lower until he was on his knees. Hands sliding up her slick thighs and around to her bare bottom, he pulled her forward and teased her with his tongue. Flicking it, darting in and out, and tasting every bit of her, Chris absently noted how much faster he was able to get her to moan his name these days. He knew what she liked, and how she liked it. She'd trained him to know.

Her fingers dug hard into his shoulders as Lamia panted his name over and over. Her head arched back, and the water cascaded down her chest, ricocheting into his face.

As water blinded him, Chris pulled back, gasping as he flashed to when he'd been strapped to a table and dunked in ice water over and over for he didn't even know how long. He vividly remembered choking, coughing, wheezing painfully for air that wouldn't come. How his lungs burned and his heart hammered hard with an all consuming panic. Reliving it now, he started to hyperventilate.

Lamia lightly tugged his hands pulling him up and out from the water. Her face was sorrowful as she palmed the side of his. "You are safe. Not drowning. Deep breaths."

Chris squeezed his eyes shut forcing himself to slowly breathe in and out repeatedly. The anxiety attack eventually abated, but he felt queasy and shaky in the aftermath of it.

"I should not have done that to you, Young One," Lamia softly told him, brushing her cheek against his, holding him close. "You are so precious to me. I regret it deeply."

Automatically, he found himself defending her, "It was my fault. I tried to stab you. I deserved to be punished."

Pulling back, the demoness put her finger to his lips, shushing him. Taking his hands again, she guided him to the edge of the bath then gracefully slipped inside, gesturing with a finger for him to follow. Once he did so, she ran her hand through his wet hair, brushing his now too long bangs away from his face, smiling adoringly at him. "Let's finish here where your head can stay out of the water."

Chris nodded agreement, moving through the hot water to wrap his arms around her. He teased her upper lip with his tongue, and when she granted entrance, he slipped it in her mouth to skillfully dance with hers. At the same time, he pulled her into his lap as he sat on the stone ledge halfway down the bath. The demoness immediately started grinding against him, running her nails down his spine in a way both painful and pleasurable. Soon, a natural heat spread low in his gut, and he felt himself go hard.

He moved her hair from her shoulder, nipping the exposed skin then kissing the marks he left behind. Moving to the nape of her neck, he sucked hard enough to leave a hickey causing her to gasp. When she tapped the top of his head, he knew what she wanted. Two fingers immediately slipped inside her, teasing her clit while his mouth sucked and licked the water off her breasts.

Straddling him, she bucked in response to his touch, which wound up rubbing her bottom into his erection making it harder by the second. Meanwhile, the tip of her tongue was licking patterns on his chest before teeth tugged on a nipple. When he whimpered softly, her hand slipped under the water to tend to his needs. The friction of her hand combined with the slickness from the water made his eyes roll back in his head in ecstasy. He wouldn't last much longer.

As had become a habit of hers lately, the demoness teased him with penetration, pausing just before either fully mounting him or letting him inside her. Her violet eyes lustful, she demanded, "Tell me you love us, Young One."

It was the one time his mind returned to him somewhat. The use of the plural. He'd yet to see any proof she was pregnant, but she always talked as though she were. Considering how often they had sex and none of it protected, he'd given up pretending it was impossible. He simply couldn't admit it true either. The thought made the small part of his soul still alive - still his - hurt. So, he denied it. If he were lucky, he'd die being able to deny it.

"I love you," he murmured.

As reward she lowered herself onto him, and he moaned relief as he felt her warmth. Holding her bottom under the water, he started pumping up and down while she timed the movement of her hips in perfect sync with him. The things she could do with her hips made him throw back his head as pleasure poured over him. He closed his eyes for what came next.

Chris had gotten to the point he knew when the light would start leaving him. He kept his eyes closed to avoid seeing Lamia feed on it. It had taken him awhile to realize exactly what it was. Why it left him feeling inexplicably, incurably cold and empty. Knowing now she was literally eating his spirit, he'd rather not watch it happen. Not when he was so complicit in it. It made him feel vaguely suicidal. Then again, in dark moments where the numbness failed him - usually right before he fell asleep - he often wished for death, so perhaps it wasn't so vague.

The water was intensifying everything like a natural lubricant. Between that and the way Lamia knew how to move so damn perfectly, Chris soon heard himself panting and whimpering with a painful need to finish. When she dug her nails into his upper arms, it was permission. He let go, crying out her name as he did so. She liked when he came that way, and he couldn't _not_ please her anymore, so he always did.

Something was wrong, though. He hadn't once felt the biting cold, and an aching pit never formed in his chest. He did feel incredibly dizzy, though, and when he opened his eyes, he found he couldn't focus. Breathing was harder, like the air was far too thick to inhale. His heart was jumping erratically too.

"This was a bad idea, Young One," Lamia chastised. "Dangerous. I took one sip, and I worry you may be damaged from it."

Chris blinked, not sure what was happening. "You didn't feed?"

"No," she answered, brushing his wet bangs out of his eyes again. "I'm afraid, as much as I don't wish to, I'll need to feed from another today."

The idea of another man feeding her bothered him. He would have liked to think it was because it meant some other poor soul was going to be destroyed. Truthfully, he was damaged enough he was actually jealous. She had conditioned him to want her, to be her toy and please her always. He felt like a failure. Unwanted by everyone now.

Lamia brushed her lips softly over his before putting her hands on either side of his face, locking her violet eyes on his green. She told him firmly, "You are my favorite. My beloved. If I could live off you alone I would. Once the curse is broken, I shall never bed another. We will be a family."

It should have disturbed him. Only he'd long past those days. Now, it made him feel better. Made him feel valued and loved in a twisted way. He smiled weakly at her. "I only wish to please you."

"I know," Lamia soothed. "It's why after you fell asleep last night, I fetched you a surprise. It's on the table. Eat and then to bed for the rest of the day. It will help you recover."

Chris hopped up on the cool stone edge of the bath to do as she suggested, but his vision blacked out at the movement. He nearly toppled face first back into the water, but something leathery wrapped around his middle and held him steady. He rubbed his palms into his eyes trying to get his vision back. When it did return, he saw the snake monster from his nightmare in the bath. It was Lamia.

The woman's lips quirked into a twisted smile as she saw the shock on his face. "I told you who I was weeks ago. This form should not surprise you."

"You said you took the shape of a lot of different demons," he said. "Not a snake monster. The one from _his_ memories."

"Oh," she said knowingly. She unwrapped her tail from him, using the tip to caress his jaw, laughing lightly as he flinched. "I had forgotten your fear of snakes. Hopefully over time I can break you of such a silly phobia."

Chris narrowed his eyes at her. "I'm only here because of him, aren't I?"

"At first," she admitted, running her tail along his chest making him shudder. "Only, unlike your family, I got to know _you_. You see, I hated _him_. Wanted to punish him for hurting me so. You? Oh, Young One, you have awoken feelings I have not had in millenia. You became my perfect mate, and I treasure you."

The witchlighter closed his eyes, turning his head away. He hated when she talked that way. Loathed how it actually made him feel special. How he cared about the opinion of a demoness who'd kidnapped him and held him prisoner for who knew how long. It was so wrong. He had never imagined it possible to hate someone so deeply but be terrified of losing them.

"I must go," Lamia announced with a pout. "Forgive me for what I am about to do?"

"Of course," Chris automatically murmured.

The demoness lightly kissed him again before exiting the bath with a big splash. Then, with another regretful glance back, she slithered out of the cavern into the dark halls of The Underworld leaving him alone.

Moving slowly, Chris got to his feet and padded his way back to the main cavern. The few clothes he owned were on his side of the bed. He winced. He had a side of the bed. A bed he'd been sharing with a soul-sucking demon. Voluntarily. In self-preservation, his brain clicked off at the thought, and he mechanically moved to grab a pair of jeans and a brown button up shirt.

Dressed, he sauntered over to the table to find a box of chocolate fudge Poptarts waiting for him. He shook his head not sure whether to smile or cry.

He'd once told Lamia his mother refused to let her children eat Poptarts since they weren't nutritional. She called them non-food stuff. When he and Wyatt got their own place a few years ago, Chris ate them every morning for months to make up for lost time. His favorite was the chocolate because he imagined it was the least healthy out of all the options, and he wanted to passive-aggressively spite his mother.

Grabbing out a silver package, he ripped it open and took a bite of the crunchy chocolate pastry. Instead of rich fudge, he tasted nothing. He'd noticed that lately. No matter what he ate the food was flavorless. Colors seemed dimmer too. He wondered if the cause was physical or psychological. Nonchalantly, he thought he was extremely damaged on both fronts, so it was likely a combination of the two.

An obnoxiously bright pink light flashed in the cavern, and Chris had to raise a hand to block his eyes from it, not used to anything but the dimmest lighting any more. Then, he heard a voice he honestly didn't think he'd ever hear again say his name with audible relief. Slowly lowering his hand, he wondered if he was hallucinating. It wouldn't be the first time since he'd been down here. Yes, that was probably it.

"Kit?" the possible Wyatt hallucination questioned, brows furrowed in concern.

Chris took a bite of Poptart, chewing slowly as he stared at the image of his brother. His green eyes shifted to the other person in the cavern. He commented blandly, "You're new."

"My name is Bianca," the other hallucination softly informed him.

Swallowing, Chris remarked, "I know. Not sure why I'm seeing you though. We only met for five minutes. Normally, I see Wyatt. Sometimes Mel. Not complaining. Just confused. I used to dream about you. Thought we were destined. Stupid, huh?"

"You don't think we're real," the Bianca hallucination breathed. Her brown eyes darted over to the Wyatt one looking worried.

Chris took another bite of Poptart, deciding he must be even crazier than he thought if even his own delusions were judging him. He muttered to himself, "Well, my brain is pretty fucked up at the moment."

The image of his older brother looked like he might cry. A very un-Wyatt like thing to do. Then, the hallucination rushed toward him, wrapping him up in a tight hug. Voice cracking, the large man told him, "Feel this? It's real. _I'm_ real."

The younger brother nearly choked on his bite of Poptart from being squeezed so hard. It hurt to be held. Muscles cramped and cuts stung and burned. Still, it was the best feeling in the world because it meant this Wyatt was not a figment of his imagination. Green eyes getting moist, he asked in wonder, "Wy? It's really you?"

When Wyatt pulled back to look down at Chris, his brown eyes were shining too. "Yeah, Kit. It's really me."

The half eaten Poptart slipped from Chris' hand breaking to pieces as it hit the ground. After so long being numb and hopeless, the young man was overcome with emotion. Relief. Despair. Joy. Shame. Hope and Fear. Chris started laughing. He couldn't stop. Loud, body wracking laughter that aggravated all his injuries. He quickly reached the point he couldn't breathe.

"He's in shock," Bianca directed to Wyatt.

"Chris?" Wyatt gently shook him by the shoulders. "Calm down. Everything is going to be fine. I'm here now. You're okay."

The laughter abruptly stopped. Taking a gasping breath, Chris shook his head, stepping unsteadily back from his brother. "No."

Wyatt frowned. "What do you mean no?"

"You're too late, Wy," Chris brokenly answered, tears starting to trickle down his face. "You're too damn late. Everything is not going to be fine, and I am so _fucking_ far from okay."

Covering his head with his arms out shame, Chris broke down into full sobs. He knew even if he left this hell, he'd never truly be out of it. Here. There. It didn't matter. She would never let him go. Never let him be free. Lamia owned him. Now and forever.

TBC . . .


	6. Defense Mechanisms

**Thanks so much to Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, sise87, Korzy potterwell and kwissss for taking the time to share your thoughts. As many of you noted, Chris isn't as strong as he was in the show, but have no fear, there's someone who knows how to get him there and gives him his first lesson this very chapter :)**

Chapter 6

Bianca had never seen Chris cry. Not one single tear. The man she knew, who she loved, had been a force of nature. Unstoppable and unconquerable. He watched people he cared about get killed, sometimes because of decisions he'd been forced to make, and he'd merely become quiet and moody. He'd once been tortured by a darklighter for information, and he'd remained cocky and sarcastic despite nearly dying. She had betrayed him to Wyatt, broken his heart, and he'd only gotten angry. Despite losing so much, suffering greatly, he had never broken. Not even close.

To see the man she loved, a man she'd believed unbreakable, falling apart in front of her was the most gut wrenching experience of Bianca's life. Her heart was shattering. All she wanted to do was take him in her arms and comfort him, but she knew it wasn't what he needed. Not now and not from her. He didn't know her, and as much as it pained her to admit, she didn't know him. Not this version.

Wyatt, shocked by the total collapse of his surly, sarcastic sibling, took a minute before he pulled his sobbing brother's arms down and gripped Chris' face in his hands. "Kit, look at me. Breathe. It's over. I promise. I will never let her near you again. I swear I will never let anyone or anything hurt you ever again."

Chris took several shuddered breaths before the tears stopped. A numbness settled over his handsome face. The sage colored eyes Bianca adored, normally full of strength and fire, were deadened.

Wyatt yanked Chris into another tight hug, whispering into his hair, "I'm so sorry, Kit. I failed you. I know I did. I'm going to make this right, though. No matter what."

At the embrace, Bianca noticed Chris wince and tense up before robotically returning the hug. When his arms came around his brother's back, Bianca spotted the damage done to his left hand and inhaled sharply. She informed Wyatt, "He's hurt."

The older brother pulled back to examine the younger, looking for what to heal. "Where?"

Chris' expression was vacant, and he didn't answer.

"Left hand," Bianca answered on his behalf.

Wyatt snatched his sibling's hand, and for a moment, Bianca thought he might get sick at the sight. Even from where she stood several feet back, she could see the nail beds were a mix of blood red, white scar tissue and green infection.

Swallowing, probably to stomp down his nausea and horror, Wyatt quickly let the golden glow flow out from his own hand to repair the damage to Chris'. He fixed his brother with a frightened stare. "Where else, Kit?"

Chris glanced numbly down at his left hand, which he moved back and forth as though not quite able to believe it was healed. He ignored his brother's question, or perhaps, honestly wasn't capable of answering or even hearing him.

"He flinched when you hugged him," Bianca informed Wyatt. "I think his back is injured."

"Chris?" Wyatt questioned. When his brother remained unresponsive, he ordered, "Chris take off your shirt, so I know what needs healing."

Bianca didn't fail to notice how Chris automatically did as he was told without hesitation. It scared her how with no protest, he mechanically unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. At which point, it became all too clear he'd been tortured repeatedly. Scars and angry red welts covered most of his shoulders, back and chest. Judging by the marks, he'd been whipped, cut, clawed and bitten.

The Twice Blessed's mouth fell open in horror. "What did she do to you?"

Chris squeezed his eyes shut as though trying very hard not to picture the answer to his brother's question. His Adam's apple bobbed and hands fisted the sides of his pants. He was on the edge of being overwhelmed again.

"Wyatt, just heal him," Bianca sharply commanded. "We need to get out of here."

The Twice Blessed snapped out of his dismay and raised golden glowing hands over his sibling until every external scar had been removed. Bianca wished he could heal those scars she feared lay underneath the surface as easily.

Relief flooded over Chris' face, and for the first time, his body lost its tight rigidity. The young man looked up at his brother and asked with painfully soft hope, "Can you do my mouth?" He ducked his head as though embarrassed for having made the plea. His voice barely audible, he explained, "I miss my teeth."

This time when Wyatt cursed it was not under his breath, and he appeared to have no regret in using the harsh word. As he fulfilled Chris' request, Wyatt's jaw was so tight Bianca saw the muscles twitching.

"Anything else?" Bianca gently asked the younger brother.

Chris, running his tongue over his newly returned molars, shook his head.

With burning rage, Wyatt ground out, "Where is Lamia?"

"Gone to feed," Chris answered distractedly as he slipped his arms back into his shirt.

"She left to feed?" Wyatt repeated. He let out a breath, closing his eyes with relief. "Then, she wasn't able to feed off you. Oh, thank God."

Bianca didn't miss how Chris froze for a second. How thickly he swallowed, or how his green eyes filled with guilt, shame and indescribable pain. It wasn't a coincidence he hurriedly buttoned his shirt and started rubbing one arm nervously. She closed her eyes as the truth dug into the last shards of her heart, grinding it to dust.

"Let's get you home," Wyatt said, reaching out for Chris. "Once you're settled, I'll come back here and deal with Lamia. Believe me, she's going to pay dearly for what she's done to you."

"No!" Chris cried, snapping out of his daze with a panic. "She might be-you can't kill her. You just can't. Please."

Wyatt did a double take, not believing his ears. "What are you saying?"

Bianca stepped forward. She shot Chris a reassuring smile before turning to Wyatt and answering, "I think Chris is worried Lamia might be too dangerous even for you. I agree with him. If she were to able to use her charms on you, Wyatt, imagine the kind of damage she could do with your powers. "

"So, I'm supposed to let her get away with torturing my brother for a month?" Wyatt sharply questioned.

The Phoenix shook her head, folding her arms. "Of course not. We just need to regroup. Come up with a solid plan first. We know where she is now, so you can come back later once we know how to safely vanquish her. For now, we should focus on helping Chris. Not hunting Lamia."

Wyatt looked like he wanted to argue but relented with a frustrated shake of his head. He held out a hand to his brother, who seemed to hesitate before taking it, looking around the cavern nervously first. Once their hands were joined, the two disappeared in a swirl of bright blue and white lights.

Bianca eyed the box of Poptarts on the table sitting next to a blood crusted whip and a dish filled with Chris' teeth and fingernails. Her eyes then moved to the bed where white sheets held ruddy stains. There were a pair of men's sleep pants lying next to a dainty green silk top and matching panties. Her hands fisted as the picture came together. She was a Phoenix. She knew torture, effective torture, wasn't just physical. Apparently, so did Lamia.

Firing up an energy ball in a fit of rage, she hurled it at the bed, setting it aflame. Watching the flames devour the place where _her_ lover had been used and abused, Bianca swore she would find a way to make Lamia pay for all of it. So help her, she would not lose Chris again even if it meant taking on the most dangerous demon alive.

She closed her eyes, struggling to regain her usual calm composure. Only when she was perfectly in control did she shimmer to the boys' apartment. When she reformed in their living room, she saw Chris looking around the place as though it were a mirage about to disappear on him.

"Bianca?" Wyatt questioned, gesturing for her to come into his room. When she followed him over, he began in a whisper, "I need to go see my parents - let them know what's going on with Chris. Try desperately to convince them to hold off on barging over until he's had a little time to adjust. Only . . ."

"I'll stay," Bianca assured him. "You know I'll protect him."

Wyatt smiled gratefully. He moved back into the living room where Chris was staring at their television, which was currently a melted mess joined to their carpet. He sheepishly explained, "I had a bad moment. The t.v. sort of suffered the consequences of it. I'll replace it. Promise."

Chris just nodded.

"I need to go tell Mom and Dad and Mel you're back," Wyatt said carefully.

The younger man whipped his head around to stare at his sibling, panic flashing in his eyes. He begged, "Wy, no. Please. I don't want to see them. I can't see them yet. They'll have questions and look at me like . . . I can't handle it. I can't. I just-"

Wyatt raised his hands to halt the protest. "Don't worry. I know you're not ready, and I know how overbearing our family can be. They do have a right to know you're home though, so I'm going to the manor to fill them in on everything. Bianca is staying. She'll make sure nothing happens to you."

Chris glanced over to Bianca as though remembering she was present for the first time. He winced, quickly looking away from her and softly told his brother, "Don't be gone long."

"I'll be back before you know it," Wyatt assured him. Then, he orbed out.

Once Wyatt was gone, Chris started rubbing his arms. Whether from cold or nervousness, Bianca wasn't certain. He wet his lips, shifting from one foot to the other. After several minutes, he glanced in her general direction, focusing somewhere around the carpet at her feet. "You shimmer?"

Bianca tried to catch his eyes, but he refused to look up. She sighed. "I'm a witch, but yes, I shimmer." Noticing how he was still furiously rubbing his arms she softly asked, "Are you cold?"

Chris immediately went still. He closed his eyes, pressing his lips together. Just when she thought it was as much a response as she was going to get he murmured, "Always."

The Phoenix immediately moved over to the climate control screen mounted on the wall and adjusted the temperature to kick in the heater. She was completely shocked when she heard the man behind her let out a short, dark laugh. When she turned around, she found Chris finally looking at her, but she almost wished he wasn't. The despair in those eyes she loved nearly destroyed her then and there.

"Not that kind of cold," he lowly explained.

Bianca moved toward him, every instinct wanting to touch him. Hold him. Tell him everything was going to be okay. She was standing in front of him, her hand begging to cup the side of his face, but she stopped herself. Barely. Gently, she said, "I want to help you. If you'll let me."

"Why?" he wondered. "How do you even know me?"

"I remember," she began slowly, holding his gaze despite how much seeing him this way hurt. "Your other version cast a spell before he left, so I wouldn't forget him no matter what changes he made to the timeline. A few years ago, everything came back to me. Including how I feel about you. It's how I was able to use your uncle's ring to find you."

Chris shook his head, taking a few steps back from her. "No."

"Chris?"

"I'm not him," he told her. "Please, don't look at me like that."

Bianca frowned, genuinely not understanding. "Look at you like what?"

"Like I'm your great love returned to you," he answered miserably. "I'm not."

The young woman smiled, lightly challenging, "Don't you think I should be the judge of that?"

Chris dropped his eyes back to the carpet. "The dreams I had about you were so strong. I would feel his attraction, his love for you, even after I woke up. I wanted to find you so badly. I thought if we ever met for real it would be love at first sight. Only now . . ."

Bianca took a step toward him. "What?" When he didn't respond, she pressed, "Tell me."

His eyes, a shadow of hopelessness darkening them, fixed on hers. "I can't feel _anything_."

"Chris," she breathed.

"The other Chris," he went on, "he was so strong and determined - a hero. He never would have . . ." He drifted off, squeezing his eyes against an unknown thought or memory. He finished, "If you were expecting someone like him, you're going to be _really_ disappointed."

Bianca couldn't resist putting a hand up to his face now, but as soon as she touched him, he flinched and pulled away as though her hand were made of fire. It broke her heart, but she understood. She let out a breath. "Chris, we were going to get married in the other timeline. We wanted forever. For better or worse. Just because this is worse doesn't change the fact I love you."

"You love a dead man," he argued, numbly. "You're like everyone else. You think we're the same, but we're not. Not even close."

The Phoenix shook her head. "You are the same man, Chris. What's changed are just details not the core. He was a survivor above all else, and I know you are too. That demon did unspeakable things to you, but you're still standing. Cracked but not broken."

Chris took a step back, putting more distance between them. Horrible resignation lined his face. "I can't be the man you love. I wish I could. You have no idea how much I wish I had his strength, his perseverance, his courage. I don't. He's really dead and gone, Bianca. And right now? I envy him that too."

There were only two ways Bianca knew of to snap her Chris Halliwell out of a defeatist mood. One was sex. Obviously not an option at the moment considering what he'd just been through. She'd have to go with option B, and hope it worked on this version of the man. Condescendingly she remarked, "Well, I guess Wyatt really is the stronger brother."

Shock flashed on Chris' face. He blinked thickly in disbelief. "What did you just say?"

"I think he has a crush on me," she casually informed him. She sauntered over to the sofa, taking a seat with one leg bent, an arm tossed leisurely over it. She smiled coyly, "We were working together very closely the last month. Got to know each other real well. Maybe I should give him a shot. What do you think?"

Chris' mouth fell open, but life sparked in his eyes for the first time. "Are you seriously talking to me about dating my brother right now?"

She shrugged. "You're the one who said you can't be the man I need. I'm merely contemplating other options in light of you giving up. Oh, that's another point for Wyatt. He's not a quitter like you."

"What the hell?" Chris snapped. "I was _fucking tortured_." He started pacing in agitation, voice getting stronger and sharper as he started ranting, "Flesh ripped off my body. Nails torn slowly off one at a time. Teeth pulled out with pliers. She drank my blood until I passed out. Twice. I was even waterboarded. Those weren't even the worst parts of the nightmare. Believe me, Wyatt would be a puddle right now if he went through what I did. He may have all the powers, but he's soft. He would have fallen apart the first day. I lasted through so much. So _damn_ much you can't even _imagine_. I did what I had to do to survive because no one found me for a damn _month_."

She remarked, "You seem to be feeling something at the moment."

"Yeah, I'm fucking pissed," he shot back. There was a familiar hardness in his features, a reassuring fire burning in his eyes. "How dare you say I'm a quitter - that I'm weaker than Wyatt. I've been through hell, and just because I'm not okay this instant makes me pathetic in your eyes? You know what? Fuck you, Bianca."

"Sibling rivalry always did get you worked up," she commented with a smirk. "Feel better?"

He paused his pacing and turned to look at her. Realization dawned on his face. "You did that on purpose."

The Phoenix locked her eyes on his. "See. You are the same man I knew and fell in love with. A scrapper who always finds a way to get through. Now, pull yourself together and fight back like I know you can. You are _the_ Chris Halliwell. You are the strongest man I have ever known, and you can get through this."

The weakness had left him as he asked, "How?"

"The anger helps doesn't it?" she responded. "Your other version refused to focus on his pain and loss, turning to anger and determination instead. He took every bad thing that ever happened to him and the people he cared about, focused on the rage he felt about it, and used it to fuel him to do the impossible. Weakness became strength."

Chris crossed the space to take a seat next to her on the sofa. Though, she noted he left a rather decent space to assure they weren't at risk of touching. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them. He was silent a few minutes before he began, "Getting pissed off just now was the best I've felt in a really long time. Like I was me for a minute." He edged her a look. "How did you know that's what I needed to snap out of it?"

"I told you the changes are just details."

"I want to be like him," Chris quietly told her. "I want to use what happened to me to become stronger. Only, I don't know where to start." He nervously wet his lips before finishing, "If the offer still stands, I'd like your help after all."

Resisting the urge to take his hand, Bianca assured, "It stands."

"I can't promise you anything," Chris said. "She took things from me . . . things I can't even talk about and may never be able to, Bianca. A relationship seems so impossible to me right now."

Bianca smiled softly. "I'm not going to push, Chris. I know what you've been through even if you can't admit it yet."

He looked startled.

"I won't tell your family," she reassured him. "That's for you to do when you're ready. I'm just saying, I'll take this as slow as you need me to. It's going to be a long hard road, and I know that. I also know you're absolutely worth it."

The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite pulling up but nearly. It was enough. Bianca knew in this moment she had gotten through to him. He believed she would and could help him through this. She would not squander that trust. Bianca loved this man more than anything and swore to do whatever it took to make sure he could move past this traumatic time in his life and never have to look back.

Chris Halliwell might not be the indomitable man she'd fallen in love with yet, but with her support and guidance, he would become him.

000

Lamia floated into the cavern feeling rejuvenated but unsatisfied. The demon she'd seduced had fed her well, but it was not pleasing. He was rough without skill. A mindless beast she easily tamed and discarded without so much as a thought. Nothing like her beloved, who could drive her wild with desire.

Once her strength was restored, she had returned to her human form and gone up to the surface wanting to get a gift for Chris. He'd looked so upset about her having to bed another she wanted to make sure he knew how special he was to her. In her research of him, she'd learned he played guitar. She manipulated a store owner into giving her one. He could serenade her tonight.

As soon as she stepped foot in her lair, Lamia was hit by intense panic. Chris was gone. Her beloved was missing. She felt the remnants of whitelighter magic. Powerful whitelighter magic. If she had to hazard a guess, The Twice Blessed had been here. Though, not alone. Her bed had been struck by an energy ball. Halliwells didn't work with demons, so it had to be . . . No!

Lamia screamed. Raw. Rageful. Heartbroken. She slammed the guitar into the wall over and over shattering it. Then, she rushed to the table, swiping everything off the surface. The tools and dish clattered to the ground with a resounding echo. With another scream she flipped the table over shaking the cavern walls.

Then, the demoness sunk to the floor like a discarded rag doll. To her dismay she felt something wet on her cheek. Frowning, she reached up to touch her face and found actual tears. She stared down at her wet fingers in shock. Cursed as a monster, she had lost the ability to cry. Even when she took mortal form she couldn't manage it. The implication made her give airy laugh.

It had begun. The curse was being lifted.

She smiled softly, stroking her abdomen. "Oh, you give me such hope Little Ones. My punishment is nearly over. When it is, I promise you both we will be a family. I will bring your father back where he belongs." Her violet eyes narrowed lethally. "I just need to kill the competition first."

Lamia had never vanquished a Phoenix before. She looked forward to it.

TBC . . .


	7. One Step Forward Two Steps Back

Special thanks to the following amazing readers: I came for Paige, Jade, Korzy Potterwell, sise87, mclaughlin and Naruto Loves FemKyuubi. You guys keep me going :) Tried to answer some of your questions in this part. The rest will be answered in the next chapter I think.

Chapter 7

 _The feel of a warm mouth kissing his chest, working its way up his neck, crushing against his lips. A tongue teasing his own. Cool hands running all over his fevered body. Silky soft skin beneath his hands. A throbbing need. Moist heat and fevered friction. Breathy pants. Rumbling moans. Haunting violet eyes. A seductive whisper, "Tell me you love us."_

 _Us. Us. Us._

Chris sat bolt upright in his bed with a gasp, hands fisting the sheets so hard they ached. Sweat beaded on his brow, ran down his neck and made his shirt stick to his back. Breath kept coming in and out in erratic bursts as the word from his nightmare echoed in his head taunting him.

Then, Lamia's voice filled his mind. _I feel life growing inside of me as we speak. Life you and I created together._

"No," he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. "It's not true. Just forget about it. Forget about _her_. Get yourself together, Halliwell."

Get yourself together Halliwell. Bianca's words. A phrase she'd told him time and time again over the last two months. It was almost always followed by a plea for his help. Not that she really needed it. It was just a way of taking his mind off whatever horrible memory or thought was dragging him back into the dark pit of despair he'd worked so hard to climb out of over the weeks.

Lots of low level demons had met their end following that statement. Chris had been reluctant to join her on vanquishes at first, his confidence shaken, but Bianca had known it's what he needed. Known taking out evil, even the bottom feeders, would make him feel like himself again. It had returned his sense of purpose, power and control. He was a badass witch not to be taken lightly. The feeling was quickly becoming addictive. As often as Chris orbed to the manor to look through The Book of Shadows for leads on new threats, Wyatt had started to tease him he'd have it memorized soon.

When Bianca didn't request assistance on vanquishes it was manual labor. Building shelving, fixing her car, moving heavy statues and other art pieces without using his telekinesis, and even cleaning the gallery from top to bottom. Working with his hands filled him with a sense of peace as he was too focused on the physical tasks to think about anything. All the work had returned his lost muscle mass too. He looked like himself again, and slowly but surely, he was beginning to feel it too.

Save one area.

Chris couldn't stand being touched. Even a light brush against his arm sent a jolt of panic like an electric shock through him. It was the only trigger he couldn't fight his way through no matter how hard he tried. Honestly, he wasn't sure he'd ever get past his issues with intimacy. Past the fact he'd been raped by a demon over and over again.

Lamia had raped him. It had taken a whole month for him to admit that to himself. He didn't think he'd ever be able to say the word out loud though. It was too heavy with meaning. Still, it lessened his self-loathing to realize no matter what he'd done in the end, sex with the demoness had never really been voluntary. She'd taken him against his will repeatedly then destroyed his spirit until he _couldn't_ say no. Choice had been removed from the equation from the start. He feared no one in his family would see it that way though.

Things with them hadn't gotten any easier. In fact, they were worse than ever. The issues he'd had with them before were compounded by everything he'd been through, and what had happened after he'd been rescued.

 _Six weeks earlier . . ._

 _Showers used to be Chris' favorite part of the morning. The hot water woke up sleepy muscles and hit the refresh button on his brain. It's why he'd always taken extra long showers, soaking up every minute. That was before. Now, he hated every second. When water dripped into his face, ice stabbed his heart freezing it with fear. He'd flash to being held under the water, arms furiously wriggling trying to break free of the straps. Lungs on fire. Screaming bubbles. Thinking this time she's not bringing me back up. This time I drown._

 _Throwing open the shower door for the dozenth time to gasp lungfuls of cool air, Chris heard voices in the living room. Distracted, the panic subsided more quickly this time. Turning off the water, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel, wrapping it around himself. He padded quietly to the door, pressing his ear against it._

" _Chris needs our support," his father's voice insisted. "He's never known when to ask for help, Wyatt, but that doesn't mean we don't still give it."_

" _I promised him I would let him decide when he was ready to see people," Wyatt argued. "Bombarding him like this is only going to make everything worse. Trust me. I know Chris better than anyone, and his flight instinct is on overdrive right now."_

 _Melinda softly spoke up, "I just want to see him, Wy. I won't ask questions or anything. He's my brother too though. I love him. I thought he might be - Wyatt, I need to see he's alive. Please."_

 _A heavy breath. Slowly, Wyatt replied, "Mel, I don't think it's a good idea. He's alive, but he's not okay. When I found him yesterday, he started sobbing._ Chris _. The guy who can take a darklighter arrow and still crack jokes was literally sobbing in my arms. Then he shut down. It was like I was looking at him, but he wasn't there. Just a shell. I've never been more scared in my life."_

" _No," Melinda breathed._

 _In that one word, Chris was able to tell his little sister was crying. All her life Mel had idolized him and tried to be just like him. In return, Chris had taught her everything he knew and protected her above all others. Now, the young woman he would always envision as a six year old with pigtails chasing after him with adoration on her little face was crying in pity for him. He was pitiable now. Leaning his forehead against the door, eyes closed, he murmured, "So it begins."_

" _What the hell did Lamia do to him?" Paige asked, rage in her tone._

" _Like I told Mom and Dad last night," Wyatt said, "she tortured him. There were more cuts and scars than skin on him. She freakin' pulled off his fingernails and yanked out his teeth."_

 _A choked sob - likely Mel. Gasps - probably the aunts. His father actually cursed, which Chris had only heard once or twice in his whole life. Also, something exploded somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen. Metal clanged to the ground. Chris guessed his mother had lost her temper. He hoped it wasn't the coffee maker. He could live without anything else, but if he survived hell only to come home and be denied coffee his first morning back, he was going to be pissed._

" _When we find that demon," Piper said, voice lethally low and tight, "I am going to forget I'm a good witch and show her a few torture tricks of my own. By the time I am done with that demonic bitch, she's going to rue the day she ever_ thought _about touching my kid."_

 _Find her? Chris frowned. Didn't they know where she was? Wyatt had been in the lair, so it should have been simple to orb back there. Not that Chris was entirely sure how he felt about the idea. After all, it was possible they'd also be vanquishing his - no. He couldn't go there._

" _Yeah, see, as much as I am with you on the whole make-the-demon-suffer idea," Paige said, "we sort of didn't have any luck finding her the first time. How are we supposed to find her now that she's hightailed it out of that lair? The place was completely deserted when we orbed down there last night."_

 _Lamia had taken off. Disappeared to parts unknown. Chris wondered if she was truly running from his family. If so, it meant his nightmare was over for good. She wouldn't dare cross them again. If not, if she really had no fear of The Halliwells, the demoness could be biding her time. Luring them into a false sense of security before she came to reclaim him. The thought made his stomach tighten hard, panic building to the point he felt shaky and sick._

 _Wyatt let out a frustrated huff. "I should never have left without vanquishing her first. Of course with Chris gone she'd realized we'd found her and flee. I can't believe I was so stupidly irresponsible."_

 _Chris could picture their father's sympathetic face, imagine he had put a hand on Wyatt's shoulder as he said, "It's not your fault, Wyatt. You were focused on helping your brother. You got him out of there, and that's what's most important."_

" _What do we do now?" Melinda wondered._

 _Phoebe sighed. "I'm not sure there's much we can do. We have Chris back, and the demon is gone. Clearly she knows she's outnumbered and outmatched, so I don't think she'll come after him again. Antagonizing her could make things worse. Maybe it's best to let it go?"_

 _Let it go. Forget about the fact he'd been kidnapped and held prisoner for a month. Don't sweat the fact he'd been physically, emotionally and mentally tortured. No big deal. As those thoughts burst angrily into Chris' mind, his hands clenched hard enough his nails bit his skin. Before he even realized what he was doing, he opened the door and strode into the living room, eyes drilling into his older aunt's face._

" _Chris?" she questioned, clearly not needing her empathic power to know how he was feeling._

" _Let it go?" he repeated acidically. "Did I seriously just hear you say that? About the fact I was tortured in ways you can't even imagine?"_

 _His aunt plastered a guilty look on her face. "Chris, sweetie, that's not what I meant."_

" _Don't call me sweetie," Chris snapped. "Not when you've made it super clear my whole life I am nothing but an inconvenience to the all important celebrity that is Phoebe Halliwell. The woman who is always so busy doing whatever the hell she wants to do that family and responsibility be damned."_

 _Phoebe looked like she'd been backhanded across the face. She physically flinched against his words as tears brimmed in her doe brown eyes. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out._

" _Christopher Perry Halliwell," Piper scolded, "that was completely uncalled for and beneath you."_

" _Piper," Leo tried, "he's not himself right now. I wouldn't-"_

 _Chris barked a laugh. "Not myself? Like any of you knew who that was in the first place? Oh no, you people who claim to love me didn't even know as much about me as the demon who tortured me for a month. She liked pointing that out by the way. Felt awesome let me tell you."_

 _Wyatt crossed to his brother's side. "Kit, calm down."_

 _When his older brother put a hand on his arm, Chris violently jerked away. "Don't touch me. And don't you dare tell me to calm down. Not when the greatest source of magic known to man, The Power of Three, let me rot in a cave in The Underworld for a month. Let a demon rip apart my body and mind over and over. If it were anyone else . . ."_

 _Paige put her hands on her hips, challenging, "If it were anyone else, what, Chris?"_

" _I know where I rank in this family," Chris replied with a bitter shake of his head. "If it were Henry, Kat, Tam or literally_ anyone _else, Paige the super-witch would have found a way. For everyone else she does. Just not me. Me? It's okay if I die. After all, not like it's the first time you've sat back and watched it happen. Isn't that right, Paige?"_

 _The youngest Charmed One's face grew hard with indignation but her honey colored eyes were soaked with tears. "That was cruel and unfair."_

" _The truth usually is," Chris countered darkly._

 _Leo stepped forward locking a gentle but firm gaze on his grown child. "Chris, son, I can't even imagine what you've been through, but I swear to you we all worked day and night trying to find you. We all love you so much, and we want what's best for you. I promise, we will not rest until we find and vanquish Lamia for what she's done."_

 _Chris could never stay angry at his father. Not when in every memory he had, the man always looked at him like he hung the stars and moon. It was a look that confirmed time and time again Chris was Leo Wyatt's everything - his pride and joy. God, what would his father think of him if he ever learned what his little boy had done? The thought made Chris want to curl in on himself and disappear._

" _Chris?" Leo said softly._

 _The young man nodded acceptance of his father's words. He then edged a look to Wyatt. "I'm going to get dressed then head to Bianca's. She said she needed help at the gallery. Please, make sure everyone is gone when I get back."_

" _Bianca?" Piper spat. "So, you can forgive her for all the terrible things she's done to you, but you can't forgive your own family? She's practically a demon, Chris, but I suppose because she's got a pretty face you're willing to overlook that fact?"_

 _It was the worst possible thing his mother could have said. She didn't know that. Rationally, he knew she couldn't have known since she had no idea what had really happened with Lamia. Still, guilt and shame transformed to instant burning rage. Green eyes seared into his mother's brown. "Get out of my apartment. You're not welcome here."_

" _Chris, no," his mother said, eyes wide and growing watery._

 _Remembering something he heard in one of his dreams, he purposefully added, "I don't want to see you anymore."_

 _Despite how petite she was Piper had always looked large to him. Intimidating and strong. All of that disappeared in this moment. The family's matriarch visibly deflated, shoulders falling forward as all the breath escaped her with the tears sliding down her heartbroken face._

 _Pushing through his shocked and crestfallen family, Chris only paused in the doorway of his room when he heard his baby sister gently say his name. He did not turn around. After the damage he'd just done he didn't want to face her._

 _Melinda simply told him, "I love you. When you're ready, I'll be there."_

 _Chris closed his eyes, a small smile pulling up one corner of his mouth. He quietly replied, "I love you too, Mel." Then, he went into his room and telekinetically shut the door, leaning back against it._

Chris had gone out to coffee with Mel a couple weeks later. She told him all about her classes, and how she was applying for various internships for the summer. How she met a guy, but he was giving her mixed signals. She asked him about Bianca, and when he changed the subject, she let him. She was careful to avoid any mention of their parents or aunts. Never once did she bring up what happened to him or try to get him to talk about it. Everything was almost normal between them.

He couldn't quite say the same thing about his relationship with Wyatt. Chris' big brother had seen him at rock bottom, and it did something to Wyatt. More times than he could count, he'd wake up in the middle of the night to find his brother had drug a kitchen chair into his room and was sleeping in it next to his bed like a snoring sentinel. In contrast, during the day, he hardly ever saw his older sibling. Wyatt had become obsessed with finding Lamia. He was always chasing leads, researching her or hunting in The Underworld. With a sad smile, their dad said Wyatt was starting to remind him of how Other Chris was trying to save little Wyatt. How it seemed both his boys would do anything to protect each other.

The relationship Chris had with his father was starting to get back to how it had been before his world had been turned upside down with the revelation of his first life. While he was still upset Leo had lied to him about Other Chris, he knew without a doubt Leo loved him. Right now, he needed that more than his indignation. He needed the comfort and wisdom only his dad could offer. They had actually had fun yesterday at Magic School as they worked on preparations for the Winter Solstice Dance. Joking and laughing just like they used to. It had been great.

The dance was this weekend. Chris was supposed to chaperone. Being as his father was Headmaster, he had seriously considered pulling the son card to get out of it. Except so many of his students had asked with such hope if he'd be there he felt guilty not going. They'd been so excited and supportive when he went back to work three weeks ago. He really didn't want to disappoint them.

So plan B. Find a way to make it bearable. Gather up the courage to do what he'd wanted to do for sometime now. Ask Bianca out. To a silly, cardboard cheesefest of a highschool dance. Where there would be dancing . . . touching.

"Get yourself together, Halliwell," Chris more firmly repeated. "Time to take the leap."

Getting out of bed and taking a quick shower, pleased at only having needed to poke his head out of the door twice this time, Chris got dressed and headed into the kitchen to find Wyatt pouring over an old book while drinking something green and thick.

"Do I want to know what that is?" Chris asked, gesturing at his brother's cup.

"Kale smoothie," Wyatt answered without looking up. "You can have some if you want. More in the blender."

Chris peered into the blender, sniffed and pulled a face. "It smells like grass. Solid pass." He looked over his shoulder to his brother. "Coffee?"

The Twice Blessed pointed to their machine, a full pot waiting.

Pouring himself a travel mug full of caffeine, he asked, "What are you so engrossed in over there? And aren't you supposed to be at work? Fixing the world one cat and dog at a time?" Chris grinned. "Get it? Fixing?"

"Yes, a neutering joke," Wyatt distractedly commented. "Clever."

"So you going to the clinic or not?"

"Not."

Chris frowned. "You've been taking a lot of time off. Your boss going to be okay with that? After all, you don't have the whole magic slash nepotism deal I've got going for me. Real world bosses tend to fire folks that stop showing up."

Wyatt glanced up from the book. "You seem to be feeling more yourself every day. Extra Chris-like this morning in fact. Something happen with a certain Phoenix we know to bring about this buoyed spirit?"

"I've decided to ask her out," Chris replied. He wagged a finger. "Don't think I didn't notice you changing the subject by the way. Now, what's up with you? You're normally Mr. Responsible Sensitive Vet guy."

"I still am," Wyatt answered. "I just have other more important responsibilities. Like being King Arthur and Twice Blessed. Right now, I have to focus on that part of who I am before anything else-" He cut himself off, looking away.

Setting his jaw, Chris nodded. After a beat, he bitterly asked, "Before anything else happens to me? Is that what you were going to say? It's not enough you sneak into my room to stare at me like a creeper while I sleep, but now, you're throwing away your life - one you worked damn hard to get - because you think I'm too weak to take care of myself. Nice. Real nice, Wy."

"That's not it, Kit," Wyatt argued. "Lamia is-"

"Whatever," Chris said raising his hands. "I'm leaving. Do what you want."

Hearing his brother calling after him, Chris orbed out. When he reappeared in the gallery, he spotted Bianca up on a ladder on the far side of the room. Taking a long swig of his coffee to calm down after his spat with his sibling, he then headed toward her. He cocked his head to one side as he realized what she was hanging up. "That's Mel's."

Done hanging the black and white photo, Bianca nimbly slid down the ladder and turned to grin at Chris. She shrugged. "I told you I really liked the one of the cat. Fits with the photography exhibit I'm opening this weekend, so I bought it from her. She didn't tell you?"

"No," Chris answered. "Probably didn't think I'd be real happy about a bunch of people gawking at it."

Bianca frowned. "You've always seemed very proud of your sister's ambition to be a photographer. Why wouldn't you want people to see her work? Especially this one. There's something about the cat in this picture I find very compelling. I love it."

Chris took another drink of coffee before casually commenting, "I bet you do."

"What?" she questioned, folding her arms. "I know that look, Chris. What do you know I don't?"

"The cat in the picture," he said, gesturing to it, "is me."

Bianca cocked her head in confusion. "Come again?"

Chris laughed lightly at her reaction. "The cat is me. I was six, maybe seven, and I wanted a pet really bad. Begged my parents, but they always said no it was too dangerous to have any animals in our house with demons always coming and going. I got mad and decided to try to use my magic to conjure a cat. Ended up accidentally turning myself into one. It's why Wyatt calls me Kit. I looked a lot like my mom's old familiar, and until the family could figure out how to turn me back, he took care me. It's when he decided he wanted to be a veterinarian."

"Probably not as much temptation as being a doctor either," Bianca mused. "Whitelighters can't heal animals."

"Exactly."

Bianca eyed his coffee cup. "You know, Halliwell, when you come visit a girl, the least you could do is bring her some caffeine too."

"Wyatt made the coffee," Chris explained. "I'm actually saving your stomach lining by not sharing."

"How chivalrous."

"I thought so."

Bianca smiled softly. "What are you doing here, Chris? Not that I'm not always happy to see you, but something tells me you have an agenda today."

Chris put his free hand in his pocket, nodding agreement with her deduction. Nerves suddenly tickled his stomach and zapped his heart into pounding faster. He felt like he was a geeky thirteen year old again, and when he spoke it came out in a rush. "Would you want to go to a dance with me?"

"Was that english?" she teased. "I don't think there was a pause between syllables."

He gave her an unappreciative look. "I'm trying here. Do you mind not being a smartass for two seconds?"

Bianca held up her hands in surrender. "Sorry. Go on. I think I heard something about a dance?"

"Magic School is having the Winter Solstice Dance this Saturday," he explained. "As a teacher, and in my dad's eyes heir apparent to running the place, I'm supposed to chaperone. I thought maybe, if you weren't busy, you might want to come with me."

The Phoenix's lips quirked up. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Chris wet his lips, stomach doing full somersaults now. "Um, yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Are you sure about this?" Bianca gently questioned. "It's okay if you're not. I'm not going anywhere."

Taking a steeling breath, Chris erased the distance between them. Locking his eyes on her, heart pounding so hard he was certain it'd give out, he brushed the hair out of her face tucking it behind her ear. Then, he lightly brushed his lips over hers. It was quick, only seconds really, but it was monumental. The first step out of the dark.

Bianca lightly touched fingertips to her lips, smiling. "I've missed that feeling."

"Me too," Chris said, though he was secretly struggling with even such chaste contact. Flashes of memory threatened to play in his mind. Panic was bubbling just below the surface. It seemed every step forward would be painfully difficult.

"Well, since you're sure," Bianca said, "I'd love to go to the dance with you, Mr. Halliwell."

"Well, all right then," Chris said. "I, uh, need to get to work, but I'll pick you up at four-thirty Saturday? Figure we can have dinner at Halliwell's first?"

Bianca gave him a brilliant smile, "It's a date."

Chris loved that smile. One of many things he found he loved about this woman. It's why he was determined to fight for her. For them. The chance at the life they'd dreamed about having together in another timeline. He would not let what a demon did steal love from him. He would be damned if he allowed Lamia to win.

000

Lamia had waited. Watched. Planned. Now, she knew exactly how she was going to get her beloved back, and no one would ever be the wiser. She just had to get rid of the Phoenix, and everything could go back to the perfect bliss it had been before the other woman had taken Chris from her.

Seeing her beloved kiss another made her enraged. Chris was hers. Her beloved. Her favorite lover. The father of her unborn children. She wasn't just going to get the competition out of the way. No. Now, she was going to make the little witch pay.

After Chris had orbed away, Lamia threw the potion at the other woman's back. To her utmost irritation, the Phoenix heard the movement and whipped around catching the bottle mid-flight, eyes wide as she saw who had thrown it. Clever little slut.

An energy ball flew toward Lamia, who waved a hand at it dissolving it into black orbs. At the horrified look on the other woman's face, Lamia laughed. "Yes. His magic courses through me now. Chris belongs to us. Not a disgusting, faithless little witch like you."

The Phoenix conjured an athame. "No. I don't care. You can't have him. Over my dead body."

"Very well," Lamia retorted. She gestured sharply sending the woman flying into the wall so hard all the pictures fell off and crashed to the floor. Another flick of her fingers, and her enemy's head rammed into the wall again knocking her unconscious.

Moving over to the other woman, Lamia tilted her head examining her for a moment. Her lip curled in distaste as she bent down and touched the woman's shoulder. With a digusted breath, she black orbed them out of the gallery.

Oh, the sacrifices she was willing to make for her beloved. No matter. Soon, she would have him back forever.

TBC . . .


	8. False Hope Version 2

Firstly, thanks to all the kind reviews I received from Joe, Pruedence, MsDrea, Guest(s), sise87, Korzy potterwell, and Naruto Loves FemKyuubi. To the one not so nice one . . . to each their own. You do you. I'll do me. :)

A/N: In reference to Chris' powers. Changed Future Chris is more powerful than Other Chris. I gave him electrokinesis, which was referenced earlier, and a few other abilities will be shown later. Someone mentioned I called Other Chris part Elder. Did not intend to but can't seem to find it. If you could let me know, I'll go back and fix it :)

Note 2: I wasn't completely happy with this chapter when I posted it, and a guest reviewer pointed out something that made me realize why, so I fixed it. The only change is the very end in the attic with the family if you've already read this chapter.

Chapter 8

Humming. Soft and gentle. The soothing sound greeted Bianca back to the world of consciousness. It took only seconds for The Phoenix to become completely alert, recalling vividly the attack in the gallery. Lamia had taken her prisoner. The demoness had managed to knock her out using powerful magic. Magic from the Warren line. Magic she had access to because she was pregnant with Chris's child.

Bianca's stomach twisted painfully at the thought. While she had known Lamia had fed on Chris, knew what that meant, the idea of the demoness carrying his baby hadn't crossed her mind. It should have, but perhaps, it was too horrible a concept to consider. The man she loved had impregnated not just another woman but a monster. Part of Chris was inside the demon linking them forever. Unless . . . Lamia was vanquished before the child was born. Chris would never have to know. He could be free without doubt or guilt.

Opening her eyes, Bianca found not only were her hands and legs bound, but she was also in a crystal cage. Strangely, not in The Underworld, but in an impressive apartment. It was a large space and exquisitely modern. Sleek glass and metal decor with crisp white walls, flooring and furniture. Pops of bright color were on the throw pillows as well as the paintings on the walls. Bianca noted with irritation the paintings had been taken from her gallery. Kidnapped and robbed. Not her best day.

Lamia was lounging on the sofa in simple jeans and a grey t-shirt, one hand resting on her stomach while she hummed a tune Bianca didn't recognize, but which sounded very much like a lullaby. There was a contented smile on the demoness' face.

Without looking at Bianca, Lamia paused in her humming to say, "It's incredible what children can hear and feel from the womb even at such a tender age. The miracle of motherhood never escapes me despite how often I've experienced it."

Chris' baby. She was carrying Chris' baby. The idea made Bianca want to scream. Kill something nice and slow. Preferably the demon in front of her.

"This time will be different though," Lamia went on, seeming to be talking more to herself than Bianca. "This time will be healing. Hera made all the others monsters. Vile, disgusting creatures incapable of affection. Never able to fill the hole ripped in me the day The Goddess murdered my sweet, beautiful children. No. For centuries, each birth created a new monster. Each monster devouring part of my soul with their creation."

Bianca heatedly retorted, "You have no soul. They were monsters because _you_ are a monster."

Swiftly, smoothly Lamia rose and crossed the distance between them. Violet eyes glared down at the prisoner. Reaching into the pocket of her jeans, she pulled out a fistful of silver dust and blew it onto the cage.

The magic sparked, sending bolts of electricity ripping through Bianca. Despite the currents of magic searing flesh, zapping muscles and firing nerve endings, the witch made no sound or gave any indication she was in pain aside from clenching her jaw and hands. Her brown eyes burned with rage as she stared down her enemy.

"Do not call me a monster," Lamia lowly ordered. "I am what Hera made me, but the curse grows weaker every day. Soon, I will be human again. The miraculous life growing within will return my heart and soul to me, and I will have the family Hera stole from me returned."

"Family?" Bianca challenged. "What family?"

Lamia patted her stomach, smiling softly. "Chris. Our children."

Children. Plural. Bianca wondered if the demoness meant she was currently carrying multiple babies or if she was contemplating future pregnancies. Either way, bile rose up the witch's throat. She swore, "I will never let you hurt him again. Do you hear me? You can't have Chris."

"I already have him," Lamia countered. "He is my beloved, and we are meant to be together. The one who breaks my curse is destined to be by my side the rest of my life. As Chris broke my curse, he is my fated mate."

Frustrated by the riddle-speak, in pain and angry, Bianca snapped, "Broke your curse how?"

"He blessed me with pregnancy," she answered. "When the mother of monsters gives birth to an angel, the curse is lifted. Our children have magic descended from The Elders, the only beings strong enough to counter the power of the Greek Gods."

Children. The crazy demoness kept using that word, and each time she did Bianca dug her nails into her palms until they tore through skin. Chris was her true love. Her soulmate. The idea of him having children with another woman was bad enough, but this sick, twisted creature? No. Not happening.

"He thinks he loves you," Lamia sneered, pretty face twisting harshly. "I lost him the first time because of you, so I will not risk you tempting him away from me when I am so close to having everything I've ever wanted. I planned to kill you to prevent it, but each attempt was thwarted by my unborn children. Too much good magic in them I suppose. So, you can suffer in life instead."

Good magic. Chris' magic. They were part Chris. They for certain now - twins. Twin babies with good in them not just monsters to be vanquished like their mother. Would they be demons with souls? Even so, demon blood and dark magic were potent lures to evil. Were they worth saving somehow? Were they worth risking Chris' sanity all over again?

"As a Phoenix," Lamia went on, "you've been trained to withstand all physical pain. Not even my superior techniques could break you. So, as punishment for trying to steal my beloved, I'm going to torture you another way. A better way. I'm going to make you watch as Chris and I make love again and again. Observe as we raise our children together and live long happy lives while you rot in this cage."

Bianca shook her head. "He will never touch you again. His heart belongs to me whether he can verbalize it or not. Your powers won't work on him anymore. Even better, by coming after me, you've woken a sleeping dragon. There is not a force on this Earth more dangerous than Chris Halliwell when you go after the people he loves."

Lamia tsked. "Silly, stupid girl. How can he miss what he doesn't know is gone?" The demoness snapped her fingers, instantly transforming into a perfect copy of Bianca. She smugly taunted, "Thanks to you, he will bed me willingly. After all, his heart belongs to you, right?"

"It will never work," Bianca said. "He'll know you're not me, and he will vanquish you."

The demoness actually laughed. "How? He doesn't remember you."

The electrified magic of the cage had hurt less than those words. It was an open wound, and Lamia had dug her fingernails into it, tearing it wider and deeper. The fact Chris didn't remember their life or their love hurt Bianca more than she'd ever admit.

While they had grown close since his rescue, they were in completely different places. Bianca knew everything about Chris, but he was learning who she was for the first time. She was ready to marry him, have his children. He barely mustered the courage to ask her on a first date. She remembered making passionate love to him - could clearly picture his beautiful body, and how to caress and kiss it to make him moan and shiver. Could vividly recall the feel of his hands and lips on her skin culminating in the incredible sensation of being one with him. Only now, giving her a peck on the lips had almost triggered a panic attack for him.

In a moment of dark honesty, Bianca had to admit she really didn't know if Chris would be able to tell she'd been replaced.

Lamia truly was a master of torture.

000

Advanced potions was Chris' final class of the day, and also his most frustrating. Growing up, it had been a source of pride how much better at potions he was than his big brother, who couldn't get the simplest concoctions correct. As an adult, he had quickly gained a reputation across the magical community as a bit of a savant in the field. Only, trying to teach the art to teenagers who were distracted by hormones a few days before a big dance was impossible even for him.

The worst of the lot was his cousin, Peyton. The sixteen year old was a walking stereotype of bad-girl teenage angst. She'd dyed her hair purple, wore way too much makeup and not nearly enough clothing for her protective older cousin's liking. While brilliant, she never did her assignments, never paid attention in class and often was caught either smoking, drinking or making out with various seniors of both genders . . . in _his_ office.

Today, Peyton had decided to perch on top of her desk, making eyes at a few of her classmates instead of paying attention to her potion, which had started making a strange popping sound and billowing yellow smoke.

Having already inspected all the other student's batches and finding most to be passable but uninspired, he moved in front of his cousin's cauldron. Looking inside he found what should have been a light orange, syrupy potion to be a bright yellow congealed blob, bubbling and splattering onto the desk. The substance had eaten through the surface, leaving several small holes and one quite large one. Peering through the hole Chris found part of the floor was missing.

Ducking under the desk to examine the damage, he caught the levitation professor glaring up at him. He waved an embarrassed hello. "Sorry, Ms. Lanahand. I'll get this fixed."

"Mr. Halliwell," she barked back, "see to it you do, or I will have to talk to The Headmaster about your lack of control in the classroom."

His students broke out into 'ooohs' and laughter. One boy joked, "You're in for it now, Mr. H."

Coming up over the desk, Chris glared at his cousin. "Miss Halliwell, care to explain how a simple invisibility potion is acting like Scabbard Demon saliva?"

"Nope."

"Peyton," he warned.

Eyes exactly like his Aunt Phoebe's twinkled with challenge. She returned sweetly, "Yes, Chris?"

"Mr. Halliwell," he corrected curtly. He leaned over the desk sharply whispering, "Do you want me to call in your mother again?"

"Wouldn't that involve you speaking to her?" she threw back.

Chris shot her an unappreciative glare before addressing the rest of the class. "The potion Peyton made is clearly acidic, so we need a counter agent. Who can tell me what we can use?"

The response was silence accompanied by many eyes looking nervously around at one another.

Sighing, Chris answered, "Milkweed. Milkweed, people. Have you been listening at all this week? We literally just went over this." Telekinetically summoning the ingredient from the supply shelf, he added it to Peyton's cauldron, which instantly calmed the bubbling potion. He gestured to it. "See? There is always a way to fix a potion. You only have to learn the chemistry."

"Are we done, Teach?" Peyton asked, mastering the teenage look of boredom.

Chris glanced at the clock, finding the time was actually up. He announced, "Class dismissed." He edged a look to his cousin, "Except you. You and I need to talk."

As everyone scurried out of the room, Peyton folded her arms and pouted angrily. "What is your problem, Chris?"

"My problem?" he repeated, incredulous. "You created the potion from hell just now because you were busy making eyes at anyone that would pay attention. What is going on with you? What happened to my sweet, genius of a baby cousin?"

Peyton hopped down from the desk, rolling her eyes. "Whatever. I have another class."

"Pey, come on," Chris pleaded. "I want to help with whatever you're going through, but I can't if you don't tell me what's bothering you."

The young girl laughed harshly. "That's rich coming from you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She arched a brow at him. "Are you serious, Mr. Kidnapped-for-a-month-but-won't-talk-about-it? You've got more issues than Time Magazine. I don't hear you caring and sharing."

"What happened is my business," Chris retorted, crossing his arms. "Also, we're not talking about me right now. We're talking about you and the total collapse of your grades and one-eighty on the personality. You've only recently come out as bi, so is this an identity crises of some sort?"

Peyton rolled her eyes. "No, you totally have the monopoly on that one. Congrats."

"Wow," the older witch remarked, "nice. Thanks. I try to talk to you, genuinely caring, and you attack me repeatedly. Appreciate it."

"Now you know how our family feels," she bitterly retorted.

The older Halliwell did a double take. "Excuse me?"

Peyton glared up at him. "My mom was running herself ragged trying to find you. Exhausting her magic trying to get a vision to the point she passed out several times. Everyone did everything in their power to find you. I know. I was here. Mom tried to stay positive for Aunt Piper, but at night, I'd hear her crying. Aunt Piper, who was always so strong and tough, was falling apart more every day, a zombie version of herself most of the time. Aunt Paige had a total meltdown in one of her classes - called herself and her magic useless while trashing the room."

Chris couldn't imagine it. Any of it. His mother and her sisters were unflappable. They did not cry. They did not give up. They certainly didn't throw magical temper tantrums. Had they really been so affected by his disappearance?

"All that," Peyton angrily went on, " and you come home and say horrible things to them. My mother was a mess asking my dad over and over if she was a selfish person. When Aunt Paige came over the next day, I heard her say you blamed her for Other Chris dying. Not doing anything. That she thought you hated her. She didn't even look like Aunt Paige. She looked small and sad. Then, Mel told me what you said to your own mother - how you cut her out of your life like she meant nothing to you. How could you?"

"I get you love your mom," Chris said slowly, "but she's not perfect. None of them are, and our issues are complicated, Pey."

The teenager shook her head. "It's not complicated. They love you. Even though you're a selfish ass, who only cares about how what happened affected you. Forget the rest of us who were terrified and sad, who missed you and wanted nothing more than to see you again. Screw us, right? It's all about you and your precious Bianca."

Chris worked his jaw, irritation quickly verging on real anger. "Firstly, they ambushed me when I specifically asked for some time. Secondly, I'm doing what I need to do to try to move on with my life. I'm sorry if that's inconvenient for everyone. If I hurt your precious feelings focusing on healing from the most traumatic thing I've ever been through. Grow up, Peyton."

The teenager slapped him. As soon as her hand made contact, she jerked it back to cover her mouth in horror at what she'd done. Tears started welling in her eyes as she stared at her big cousin's reaction to it.

Chris froze. In his mind, he wasn't in his classroom anymore. He was chained to a hard dirty floor wearing a toga meant to humiliate and shame him. Hungry, exhausted, shaking from a cold so much deeper than any he'd ever felt before, he wouldn't give Lamia the satisfaction. Instead, he gave a smartass retort. Violet eyes narrowed before a clawed hand raked across his face.

"Chris?" Peyton breathed, a tear slipping from her lashes. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his middle. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-"

"Get off me!" Chris cried. In reflex, he telekinetically shoved the girl away, and she went flying into one of the desks at the back of the room, splintering it and lying very still.

Leo's voice came from somewhere over by the door sounding confused and scared. "Chris?"

"What the hell is going on here?" Paige questioned from The Headmaster's side.

Locked in a full blown panic attack, Chris didn't fully register their presences. Skin crawling with memories of Lamia's hands all over him, he backpedaled until he bumped into his desk. Gripping the edge hard enough his hands turned white, he squeezed his eyes shut. Violet eyes filled the back of his lids. Breathing too fast and too shallow, heart pounding violently, he started hyperventilating.

Feet pounding the ground and coming to a stop next to him. His father's voice soothing, "Chris, Buddy, it's Dad. You're okay. I'm right here. I'm with you. Just breathe, okay?"

The sound of healing magic. Peyton gasping. A pause before she softly asked, "What's wrong with him?"

Paige answered, "Don't worry. Your Uncle Leo and I will take care of Chris. Just go on to your next class, all right?"

"I didn't mean to . . ." Peyton tearfully said. "Please, tell him I'm sorry? I didn't mean it."

"Trust me, he already knows," Paige assured. "Now get going. Another detention and your mom will freak, Kiddo."

Leo put his hand on his son's shoulder trying to comfort him, but Chris winced, jerking away from the touch with such force he pushed his desk backward. The legs scraped against the tile floor with a high, sharp pitched squeal.

"Chris," Paige tried. Her voice was a lot closer now. "Chris, I need you to look at me, Sweetie."

Inhaling and exhaling in short erratic bursts, more gasping than breathing at this point, Chris swallowed hard and forced his eyes open. He found his father standing on his left, forehead wrinkled with worry, eyes brimming with fear and love. Paige was in front of him, gaze soft but expression firm.

"You are safe," Paige spoke deliberately, eyes fixed on his. "Now, deep breath in and hold it."

Chris obeyed.

"Good," his aunt drew out. "Now, let it out nice and slow."

He followed her directions, and without prompting, repeated the process. Several times. Slowly, his chest loosened, heartrate returning to a more normal pace. The panic abated leaving only a terribly shaky feeling behind. His hands were trembling despite their tight hold on the desk.

"Better?" Paige asked.

Chris forced a weak smile. "Yeah, thanks."

"Chris, what just happened?" Leo asked.

Not wanting anymore attention than he'd already garnered, he quipped, "I got bitch slapped by my baby cousin. Super embarrassing, right? I tell you, I do not envy the demons she goes up against. Bet she has a helluva right hook."

Purposely moving away from them, careful not to look in their faces, he started cleaning up the mess from today's class. Wiping down tables and picking up cauldrons to deposit in the wash basin at the back of the room in order to distract himself and give the impression he was fine and too busy to talk.

"Son, stop," Leo ordered. "We need to talk. What just happened was not-"

Chris glanced back when his father stopped mid-sentence. He found The Headmaster grabbing his side while Paige pointedly shook her head at him. Not sure what was going on, he returned his focus to cleaning and hoped they would leave soon.

He should have known better. As he went to grab another cauldron, Paige's porcelain hand held it in place. He could feel her staring at the side of his face as she gently said, "Chris, Sweetie, I was a social worker back when I first met your mom and Aunt Phoebe. Did you know that?"

"Oh?" He yanked the cauldron from under her hand and hurried to the back of the room to toss it in the sink with the others.

"The way you flinched at being touched," Paige went on, "how you've been avoiding contact since you got back . . . the panic attack . . . I've seen those reactions before, and I want you to know you can talk to me about it."

Chris' breath stuck in his chest. Not quite managing to sound natural, he commented, "I have no idea what you're talking about, Aunt Paige. I'm fine."

"You are not fine!" Leo shouted in frustration. "What happened a few minutes ago was not a normal, healthy response, Christopher. _Please_ , talk to us."

Chris turned around to find his father near tears. His Aunt was somber next to him, but her eyes were shining with terrible knowledge. They knew. A deluge of shame and sorrow washed over him, carrying him away. Shaking his head, face warm and soul cold, Chris breathed, "No. I . . . no."

Then, he orbed away.

000

It was called RTS - Rape Trauma Syndrome. Paige learned about it during her days as a social worker. She'd seen it far too many times to not recognize it in her own nephew. He'd become restless, antisocial, more easily startled, avoided physical contact, and he'd been emotionally numb when Wyatt found him. His brother had mentioned nightmares recently too. Not the memories of Other Chris but something different. Something worse.

Lamia was a seductress demon who fed on sexual energy. They should have seen this coming, but Wyatt had told them Chris said she fed on others. Putting the pieces together, Paige concluded Chris was likely in denial. Her nephew was probably too ashamed to admit he'd been a victim of one of the worst kinds of traumas.

After Chris orbed out on them, Paige and Leo had gone to get Piper, Phoebe and Wyatt. If they were going to help Chris, they needed to act quickly and together. Paige thought, and Leo agreed, Melinda and the other kids should not be involved. They didn't want Chris to feel overwhelmed or ganged up on, and as the other kids looked up to him, their sympathy might make him feel worse.

Gathered in the manor's attic, Paige shared what she believed had happened to Chris. Letting them absorb the information, she watched as her family reacted to the gut wrenching theory.

Piper's legs gave out, forcing Leo to catch her. She fisted her husband's shirt, burying her face in his shoulder leaving moisture marks on the flannel fabric. The tiny matriarch was shaking as she sobbed for her son. For her little boy who had been so horribly violated and abused. Who had been hurt by that demon for a month because she had failed to save him.

Phoebe melted into the sofa. Paige knew the empath didn't need her ability to know what her nephew was likely feeling. She had her Masters in Psychology. She too was familiar with RTS. She understood how rape was not merely a physical violation but an emotional and moral one. It was used to profane the most intimate of human experiences to deliberately produce psychological trauma.

Wyatt looked numb for a long while. His brown eyes were glistening as they stared ahead unseeingly. Quietly, he said, "It's my fault he didn't say anything. I was so relieved when he said she left to feed. He probably thinks I'd judge him or think less of him or . . . I don't know how to fix it." He looked up to Paige. "How can we possibly help him?"

Phoebe was the one to answer. "We need to let him know we're here for him. We support him and love him unconditionally. That it was not his fault. He's probably thinking all kinds of terrible things about what happened. A lot of victims fear others will believe they wanted it, or they won't be believed at all. We need to make sure he knows that's not the case."

"I honestly don't even know what to say," Wyatt helplessly admitted. "What can I possibly tell him?"

"I'm sorry this happened to you," Phoebed supplied. "It wasn't your fault. I'm always here if you want to talk. Basically, make sure he knows if he needs something, you'll be there for him, but don't push."

Leo informed, "He can't stand being touched, so we need to make sure we give him plenty of space until he lets us know he's ready." To Piper he added, "We can't try to solve all his problems for him either. Chris is very proud, and for him to have his control taken away once did enough damage. We don't want to accidentally do it again."

Phoebe nodded. "Leo's absolutely right. We have to show Chris we respect him - not pity him."

"I need to see him," Piper said. "I need to see my son. Tell him I love him no matter what and always will. Please."

"Not like that, Piper," Paige said, gesturing at her sister's tear stained face. "You need to be calm and in control before we go see him. Also, we can't force him to admit what happened. He needs to come to terms with it on his own."

The youngest Charmed One did not believe in Murphy's Law until right now. Until the bright white lights of her youngest nephew came swirling down into the attic right at the worst possible time. When he reformed in front of the book, he immediately saw his mother's tears and frowned, eyeing everyone warily.

"Chris," Piper greeted, trying to smile and failing miserably.

Chris turned dark eyes on his younger aunt. "What the hell did you say to them?"

"Don't be angry at Paige," Phoebe said carefully. "She, like the rest of us, just wants to help you. Whatever shape or form that help comes in is entirely up to you, Chris. We promise we will not push or pry. We only want you to know we love you, and we are here for you. Always."

The young man wrapped his arms around his middle, eyes nervously darting around the room at each of his family members. Wetting his lips, he asked, "What do you think you know exactly?"

"You tell us," Leo gently countered.

Chris shook his head. "No. I'm not doing this." He was halfway orbed out when Wyatt's comment made him reform.

"It wasn't your fault, Kit."

Coalescing from the lights, Chris locked eyes with his sibling. At what he saw in his brother's gaze, his mouth fell open, and he took a step back. Green eyes flashed from horror to fear to shame. All the color vanished from the younger man's face.

Paige knew Chris realized everyone in this room was aware of what had been done to him. He was likely to try to flee if they didn't act quickly. She cautiously took a step forward, trying to catch his eyes. "Chris, we aren't here to make you talk about it, but whenever you are ready, we'll listen. No judgment."

Phoebe put in, "We all love you very much, and this doesn't change that."

"It doesn't change that?" Chris repeated. He laughed, a darkly unpleasant sound. Glancing around at each of them, he shook his head. Paige noticed his hands were clenched and tremoring. He bitterly remarked, "You can't forgive what you know nothing about."

Piper moved from Leo toward her son. Her brown eyes firmly fixed on his green as she solemnly swore, "Peanut, there is nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong."

Paige frowned as an anger flickered in her nephew's eyes. Something was setting him off. It was probably too much at once. Too many people knowing what he wasn't ready for them to know. Too much sympathy. Too much everything. "Guys, I think maybe we should-"

"I did nothing wrong," Chris echoed. "You so sure about that?"

His mother looked startled. "Of course, I'm sure. Chris, what happened to you was not your doing. You have nothing to be ashamed of or feel guilty about, so please, don't push us away. Talk to us. Let us help you."

Paige scrunched up her face while Phoebe winced. They both tried to warn their sister to stop talking, to let him go, but it was too late.

"What exactly do you want me to say?" Chris sharply questioned. "That I was a demon's sex toy for a month? Gig came with a degrading costume and everything. Oh, I know, how about how eventually I was so damaged I couldn't tell the difference between pleasure and pain anymore? Maybe, how I was so screwed in the head it felt good when she said I was special to her? How as time went on I was so desperate to please her I fucked her willingly? How in the end part of me enjoyed it. Is that what you wanted to hear, Mom? How your precious peanut was a demon's whore?"

"Kit, enough," Wyatt said moving to stand between his brother and mother. He locked eyes on his sibling and something meaningful but unspoken passed between the brothers.

It was obvious to Paige that Wyatt would be the one to get Chris through this trauma. Despite his reservations about knowing how to handle the situation, Wyatt knew his brother better than any of them, and right now, he was oozing calm and strength and support, and Chris was responding to it, the tension seeping out of him, the anger and hurt melting from his face before he lowered it toward the ground.

Piper choked on a sob, shaking her head. "Chris, I . . . I can't even imagine. I can't, but I swear to you I still love you just the same. You're my baby no matter how old you get."

Chris looked up at his mother's words, but couldn't hold her gaze, his dropping back to the floor.

"The same goes for me, Son," Leo put in. "No matter what you think right now, none of this is your fault. We all know that."

Paige nodded. "It's true. There's a term I heard a few times called survivor's sex. Normally, it's related to sex trafficking. People trade sex for things they need to survive like food or shelter. You did it to save your life, which is a normal human response."

"In your case, it may have been linked with Stockholm Syndrome," Phoebe spoke up. When everyone looked at her, she explained, "The need to please one's captor. Even having a sense of affection toward them or valuing their opinion. It's part of the trauma to your psyche. Pleasing them means you won't get hurt or killed, so your brain associates it with a positive feeling. I promise you, Chris, you didn't enjoy the sex, you enjoyed the moment of safety. It's very common. It's why when police rescue people, they aren't always thrilled right away. They're terrified of what their captor will think and do."

For a moment, Chris looked like he'd really heard what they'd said. Surprise had flashed in his eyes, his features softening before he lowered his head as though really working over what he'd been told. For a moment, Paige had hope they'd reached him. That hearing how what he'd done was normal would help him start to move past what had happened. That he might open up to them. Hope fled when he started shaking his head, bitterly laughing.

When he looked back up, his eyes were dark emerald instead of their normal sage. They were burning with a rage and hurt Paige had never witnessed in her nephew before, and she found herself inhaling and taking a step back as those eyes seared into her and Phoebe.

"You think hearing some psycho babble is going to make this all better?" Chris sharply questioned. "The fact other people have been through this sort of thing before doesn't help. It pisses me off. It makes me sick that this is common enough there are actually terms for it all."

Piper reached out for him. "Chris, we just want-"

Moving out of her reach, he snapped, "Don't touch me!" He held his hands out in front of him, and they were shaking. "Just stop. Stop talking. Stop looking at me like that. Just stop. If you want to help me, leave me alone." Then, he orbed away.

Paige, wanting to break the horrible, helpless silence he'd left in his wake, quipped, "Well, that went well."

She wasn't surprised when everyone gave her irritated or angry glares. It was her goal. Anger and frustration were preferable to the silence. To the sadness. To the realization whatever hope they'd had for getting through to Chris, for helping him, had been completely and utterly illusory. What had been done to him was not something their family knew how to fix. For once, a demon had done damage they couldn't correct with a pithy spell or well made potion. A whitelighter's touch would not heal the injuries done to her nephew. In a minute where she allowed the hopeless feeling to win, Paige wondered if anything ever truly would.

TBC...


	9. Calm Before the Storm

I have never experienced it before where I actually pick up new reviewers as a story goes on. Normally I lose people, so this is a very exciting change for me. Feeling very blessed by all the support. As such, special thanks to Maggie Potter, I'm a BJ fan, sise87, Korzy Potterwell, guest reviewer, and Naruto Loves FemKuubi.

Note the first: If you read the last chapter right after I posted the first time, make sure to reread the ending in the attic as I changed it. If you already read the chapter titled version 2 you're good to go :)

Note the second: Bit of a filler chapter this, but I wanted to incorporate some of the ideas you guys mentioned as I loved them so much. It does have important information though and a sexual scene (You've been warned). Next chapter will be hugely important and heavy, so I thought a light one was in order ;)

Chapter 9

 _There was a dagger in the waistband of his jeans. Cold metal pressed against his lower back. It had been blessed by an elder, and Chris planned on using it to vanquish Lamia tonight. It's why when the demoness raked her hands down his bare chest, moving to slip them around his back, he quickly intercepted them, pinning her arms above her head and pushing her roughly into the cavern wall. Why he firmly, thoroughly kissed her trying very hard not to think about the physical response he was starting to have at the feel of the scantily clad woman's sensuous body against him. How her tongue was doing incredible tricks in his mouth._

 _Fuck this was not going to be as easy as he'd planned._

 _Lamia purred in his ear, "You've quite the talent, Young One." Her foot ran up and down the back of his leg while she sucked on his neck. Hot breath on his ear sent a shiver down his spine for several reasons. "If you want to save your brother, you better finish what you started, though."_

 _Chris went rigid. Without meaning to reveal so much, he couldn't help but pull back in shock. Remembering what Bianca taught him about dealing with demons, he quickly schooled his features. His voice revealed nothing as he remarked, "What makes you think I have a brother?"_

" _Oh, Young One," the demoness smirked. "You came to me for my power. Did you really think I wouldn't find out who you really were?"_

" _It doesn't matter anyway," he coolly replied._

 _It did matter. It mattered a lot. No one was supposed to know who he really was. If his family found out, it would ruin everything. They'd become clingy and overprotective, which meant he'd never get anything done. If other demons discovered he was a Halliwell, he'd be too busy fighting off threats to find the one after Wyatt. Not good._

 _Lamia's violet eyes sparkled with challenge. "I can think of a great many you wouldn't want knowing the truth. Especially the one who seeks to destroy your sibling. After all, he does kill you for trying to stop him."_

 _Chris' grip on her wrists slipped, lips parting at the news. "You saw my death? I die?"_

 _Instead of immediately answering, the demoness draped her arms over his shoulders tracing lazy patterns on his shoulders and running her tongue along the edge of his ear. She paused to breathily reply, "Break my curse, and I can save both you and your brother."_

 _The idea of dying wasn't pleasant, but he'd considered it could be a sacrifice he'd have to make to save the future. She obviously knew who turned Wyatt, so he could roll with this. The plan would work. He was prepared this time, so there was no way she was going to manipulate him again. Besides, what was a little foreplay in exchange for the lives of millions?_

 _Teasing her jawline with butterfly kisses, he reached her ear, tugging on the lobe with his teeth before huskily agreeing, "I'll give you what you want, Lamia." He sucked on the tender flesh of her neck then finished, "You tell me what I want to know, and I'll give you the angelic child you need to be free of Hera's magic."_

 _Lamia smiled, grabbing his hands and pulling him over to the bed. She took a seat, pulling him between her legs by a belt loop. Deft fingers undid the button of his jeans then slid down the zipper. The dagger shifted against his back._

 _Shit. He couldn't grab it without being obvious. Plan B. Distraction. He stopped her hands, pushing her flat on her back and mounted her. Pinning her hands above her again, he forged a trail of kisses down her neck and chest, pausing at her breasts. Catching the neckline of her negligee with a finger, he pulled it down just enough to reveal a supple mound. Somehow managing not to gag at what he was doing and with whom, he expertly worked it over with his lips, tongue and teeth until she was writhing underneath him._

 _Okay, she was thoroughly distracted, so it was working . . . except for the part where she was grinding up against him, and he was having a noticeable reaction. Great. How the hell was he supposed to strategize when the blood he needed upstairs was heading south? Why the hell did this have to be so hard? He mentally groaned at his own pun._

 _Seeing her eyes were closed in pleasure, he adjusted his grip to keep her hands pinned with only one of his. The other went around to his back to grab the dagger. He was about to make his move when violet eyes popped open, and Lamia used her supernatural strength to simultaneously free her hands and flip their positions. His right arm and the blade were now trapped under his back. Shit. Shit. Shit._

 _The demoness slid down him, yanking off his jeans in the process and tossing them to the floor. Then from between his legs, she eyed him like a piece of meat she was about to devour, nails gliding up his inner thighs. He hated how he involuntarily shivered at her touch. She pulled down his briefs before running her hands back up his legs and sliding them around to grab his ass. Then, to his horror, she lowered her mouth and took him all the way in it._

 _Chris fisted the white sheets with his left hand, throwing his head back as she moved up and down, sucking and licking. Loathing himself for doing so, he couldn't help but moan in pleasure. Repeatedly. Couldn't stop his hips from bucking either. Because even if she was a sick, twisted, evil bitch, she knew what she was doing. If she kept doing this, he was going to get swept away again. His mind was already growing fuzzy with lust. Fuck. Bianca had warned him, but he'd been so arrogant and desperate and . . . Bianca._

 _Bianca's soft brown eyes sparkling just for him. Her smile, radiant and rare. The way she flipped her hair and frowned when she was irritated. Her touch. Her kiss. The way it felt to be with her - nothing compared._

 _He wiggled his arm free, keeping only his hand behind his back to conceal the weapon. One move and he could have it at her throat. Only partially forcing the breathless quality to his voice, he told her, "I'm ready. Let's do this."_

 _The corner of Lamia's mouth twisted up as she pulled back. Slowly, seductively, she positioned herself above him, violet eyes dancing with gleeful anticipation._

" _Tell me who's after my brother," Chris pleaded, his hands sliding up her thighs. "Tell me who wants me dead, and I'll make this the best night of your very long life."_

 _Lamia arched back at his touch, sharply inhaling. "Mmm, a man of great power is already watching your brother. One who has easy access to him." She gasped as he brushed against her ever so slightly. "You tease me, Young One. Enter already."_

" _Give me a name."_

" _I don't know his name," she half-whined, trying to position herself against his fingers. "I know where he is and what he is. That he is invisible to you and a squeaky floorboard will be your only warning."_

 _Chris ran his hand back down her thigh, further from where she wanted it. "What is he?"_

 _Pouting, Lamia grabbed his hand and forced it back up. When he obliged her with a skilled finger, she gasped, eyes going closed as her hips jerked in response to what he was doing. "An old one. Far stronger than you. You should flee instead of fight or your death knell with be the sound of chimes on the air."_

 _Pulling his hand back, trying to ignore the nausea generated by the moisture on his finger, Chris frowned. "What does that mean? Who could be more powerful than a Halliwell?"_

 _Lamia pushed a finger against his lips. "I've had enough teasing. No more until you have spilled your seed in me. That was the deal."_

 _When the demoness began to lower herself, Chris whipped his hand out from behind his back, plunging the dagger hilt deep into her chest. As violet eyes went wide, he gave the handle an extra shove, sending the demoness toppling to her back._

 _Lamia stared down at the blade in her chest in disbelief, hands shaking. "What have you done?"_

" _I've never been one for subtle breakups," he quipped. "It's my way of saying you're_ really _not my type."_

 _Lamia screamed as blue sparks spread through her body from where the sacred dagger pierced her. Convulsing in agony on the bed, red hair fanning out around her ever paling face, she narrowed her violet eyes in seething rage at him. "You've sentenced your brother to misery and yourself to death with this betrayal."_

 _Chris snatched his pants from the floor, throwing back, "Yeah, well, pretty sure imminent death beats having sex with you. As for Wyatt, at least I have a lead now. You? You've got nothing. You're going to die completely alone and unmourned."_

 _Sounding betrayed, she cried out, "How, Young One? Tell me this much before you leave me to die."_

" _I've experienced true love, Lamia," he answered, zipping his pants. He found his shirt over in a corner and grabbed it. "Your parlor trick can't compare." Tossing his shirt over his head he finished, "Thanks for the info about my brother, though, and have fun rotting in the demonic wasteland."_

"Kit? Hey, Chris, did you hear me?"

Startled, Chris jumped in his seat. Shaking his head to clear the last vestiges of the memory, he turned to find Wyatt standing next to him with a brown bag in one hand and a cardboard holder with three cups of coffee in the other.

"You really are hopeless without your morning coffee," Wyatt teased. His brown eyes belied the lighthearted tone. They were like melted milk chocolate, cloyingly concerned. Lips went into a thin line too like they always did when his brother was worried or upset.

The confrontation with the family had been a few days ago. To Chris' relief, Wyatt didn't mention it. Didn't bring up anything about Lamia or the rape. Made sure to leave a lot of extra space between them too, never making a single attempt to touch him at all. But every night he said the same thing: I'm here if you need me, Kit. Love you. Sleep well. It was nice. Supportive without being overbearing. So very Wyatt-like.

"Kit, your hands are shaking," Wyatt said, his whole face showing his concern now.

Chris squeezed his hands into fists several times, trying to get them to stop tremoring. He took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out in a long stream. It still didn't completely dispel the sensation of Lamia's mouth and hands on him. The image of the violet eyes that plagued every second of his life.

"I don't want to pry," his older brother prefaced, "but you're scaring me a little."

Ignoring his brother for the moment, Chris decided to try his other self's trick. He focused on his fledgling affection for Bianca. Thought about her eyes, supportive and loving. How they lit up when she smiled. How bright her smile was, and how it made his stomach flip every time he saw it. Her long silky hair shining in sunlight. Her dry wit. Her toughness and spunk.

"Chris, please say something. Anything."

At least a temporary calm restored, Chris confessed, "I think I had a vision."

Wyatt took a seat on the opposite side of the table, setting the coffees and bag in the middle. "What did you see?"

Grabbing one of the cups of coffee, the younger brother didn't fail to notice how it was from his favorite place in the city. His mouth turned up. Taking a drink, he savored the rich flavor and relished the way it immediately warmed his insides. He reluctantly set the cup down to avoid downing it all at once. "Other Chris seducing Lamia for information. It felt like I was there doing everything he was doing. Even heard his thoughts for the first time."

His older brother frowned. "Now, you're being forced to relive his life? I don't like the sound of that. Not considering what he went through."

Chris scoffed. "Not exactly been a cakewalk this go around, Wy."

"I'm so sorry," Wyatt blanched. "I didn't think. I just-"

"Stop it," Chris ordered. "You don't need to give yourself an aneurysm every time you stick your foot in your mouth. Am I super screwed up and damaged? Yes. Do I want you to treat me any differently than you normally would? No. So knock it off."

His older brother gave a thin, unconvincing smile. "Okay. I'll try."

"Besides," Chris said, reaching into the bag and grabbing a croissant, "it was helpful in a way. Other Chris was a badass. For the most part, he was in control and actually toying with her. Then he nearly vanquished her. Actually, I'm not sure how she survived. It looked lethal."

Grabbing a croissant for himself, Wyatt took a bite, thinking as he chewed. Swallowing, he concluded, "I don't think it was a vision. Your powers are all related to moving things with your mind. Is it possible you projected?"

Tearing off a piece of buttery bread and popping it in his mouth, Chris frowned, considering it. "Maybe. It's awfully rare, though. I think the only other witch who ever had it was that old friend of Aunt Phoebe's. Bobbie or Becky or something? The one who betrayed our family and nearly got everyone killed. What was her name?"

"Billie," Wyatt supplied.

Chris snapped his fingers. "Right."

"Our family line is the most powerful," Wyatt pointed out. "If another telekinetic were to get the ability, it would make sense for it to be you."

"Great," Chris muttered. "Just what I needed. A new power to figure out." He took another drink of coffee, the bliss it brought overpowering his frustration with yet another problem developing in his life. When he set his cup back down, he remembered the third one still sitting in the holder. He gestured at it. "Is Mel coming over?"

The older brother shook his head. "Nope. I did one even better." The bell rang, and he smiled. "Right on time too." He got up to answer the door.

Turning in his chair to see who was there, Chris nearly dropped his coffee cup in excitement. As it was, he put it down too hard, and drops splashed onto the table as he hurriedly got up and rushed to greet his favorite person in the world.

"Hey, there, Chris," Victor Bennett greeted with a wide smile.

Without thinking, Chris tightly hugged his grandfather. For once, the contact did not spark any anxiety or panic. Perhaps, it was because the man smelled like spicy aftershave and peppermint, and for his grandson, it was the scent of fun and safety and unconditional love. It evoked memories of late night board games wherein he and Wyatt would magically help each other cheat until their grandfather caught on. Sleepovers at his apartment where they got to eat all the junk food their mother would never allow. Saturday afternoons talking about everything under the sun knowing there would never be any judgments made about what was said just sage advice.

"I missed you too, Kiddo," Victor chuckled, lightly patting him on the back. "Think an old man can get some air soon though?"

Embarrassed, Chris quickly disengaged, ducking his head. "Sorry, Grandpa. It's just been such a long time. I thought you were doing business in London until this summer?"

"Wyatt orbed by my hotel last night," Victor explained. "Said you were going through a bit of a rough patch."

Immediately panicked, Chris' head whipped around, so he could glare hotly at Wyatt, who was subtly shaking his head in the negative.

Victor raised his hands. "He didn't say anything about what was going on, Chris. Don't be mad. He just thought a visit from your awesome grandpa might cheer you up. That's all. I promise."

"I would never share your business without your permission," Wyatt concurred. "I just figured, I have to put in a few hours at the clinic this morning, so you might want some company. Then, maybe we could all grab some lunch when I get off."

Anger diffused, Chris nodded. "Okay."

Setting his own coffee down only long enough to grab his car keys, Wyatt said, "I actually need to get going, but I'll call you to finalize lunch plans." Giving his grandpa a quick hug and waving goodbye to his brother, The Twice Blessed headed out.

Victor pointed to the coffee cup still in the holder. "Mine I hope? The jet lag is killing me."

Chris smiled in amusement. "Yeah, Grandpa. It's yours."

"Thank god," the man enthusiastically declared moving to grab it. Taking a long drink, he hummed appreciatively. He edged a look to his grandson. "You picked out the java I assume? After all, I love your brother, but he has the worst taste in coffee."

"It's from my favorite cafe," Chris confirmed. "And unless it's strong enough to take paint off a car Wyatt doesn't think it's coffee, so no, I don't let him pick usually."

Taking a seat and gesturing for Chris to do the same, Victor eyed him warily, "So, Chris, your mom says you two still aren't talking. Same with Phoebe and Paige. They haven't learned their lesson yet?"

"I'm not punishing them," Chris replied, sitting down only to start picking apart his previously discarded croissant. "It's not about that. It's about them thinking they know me when they don't have a clue. How they never see their own flaws, and they think they can fix everything just by willing it to be so."

Victor nodded. "I see." Catching his grandson's eye, he said, "I know my girls are by no means perfect. I do. I also know for all their faults, they do love you."

"I can't forgive them right now, Grandpa," Chris said, sighing as he realized there was no more croissant to shred apart. He sucked in his lips, debating what to share. If he could bare to even hint at the bigger issue.

"Chris," Victor gently said. "You've always been able to tell me anything, so talk to me. What's going on with you? The boy I've known, that I'd like to take a little credit for molding, would never shut his family out like this. Family is the world to him. What changed?"

Chris swallowed, keeping his eyes locked on the tiny pieces of bread piled in front of him. "Something really bad happened to me." He raised a hand to stop any questions. "I can't talk about it. Please, don't ask me to. Anyway, while this bad thing was happening, they weren't there for me. My family, this all powerful, undefeatable legendary group of witches . . . they failed me. Never fail anyone else, but me? Guess I'm not worth their full effort."

"Never fail anyone else?" Victor challenged. "Tell that to my daughter, Prue. Oh, that's right you can't. She was murdered by some damn demon, and nothing they did could save her or bring her back."

The grandson closed his eyes, guilt flooding his stomach. "Grandpa, I am so sorry. I didn't think." He opened his eyes to see the pain in the old man's. "I wish I could've known her. Aunt Prue sounded really cool."

"You're a lot like her," Victor remarked. "Headstrong, determined, passionate. I think for your aunts, they sometimes saw you as so strong and independent they thought you didn't need them. For your mom, well, I know it was hard for your mom. You reminding her so much of the big sister she lost. She never really got over Prue's death."

Chris frowned, wrapping his hands around his coffee cup, focusing on the warmth against his palms as he considered what his grandfather was saying. "So, you think her ignoring me wasn't about Other Chris? It was because I reminded her too much of Aunt Prue?"

"I think it was both," Victor answered honestly. "She was only starting to get to know the real him when suddenly Leo had to tell her he was dead. It was right after you were born, and it did something to your mom. She was terrified of losing you too. Didn't even leave the manor for months. I think she was scared you were fated to die just like her big sister."

"She kept me at arms length because she was afraid," Chris realized. "Didn't want to get close to me just to lose me all over again."

Victor shrugged. "It's my theory. I've tried talking to her about it many times over the years, but you know how your mother can be when criticized."

Chris snorted. "Yeah. Shrill."

The grandfather chuckled wagging a finger. "Got it in one." Smiling he said, "I don't expect you to work everything out with her overnight, but she is still your mother, Chris. Maybe you can at least think about meeting her halfway? Whatever's been going on lately . . . it's opened her eyes. I really think she's ready to listen. Phoebe and Paige too."

"They don't listen, though," Chris refuted. "Not really. I begged for some time and space, and they've consistently ignored me in favor of doing what they want instead of what I need. A few days ago, they confronted me about something extremely painful, and I told them stop, but they just kept going and pushing and digging, and I . . . I can't breathe around them, Grandpa."

Victor's brows furrowed, eyes full of worry. "You keep mentioning this horrible thing that happened to you, and I promise I won't ask you to talk about it, but tell me this much - are you okay?"

Chris tapped the table nervously, debating what to say. He'd never lied to his grandfather before. Anyone else was fair game, but not this man. Letting out a heavy breath, he answered, "No. No, I'm not okay, Grandpa. I'm not even sure okay is possible at this point. Just trying to take it day by day, you know?"

"Can . . . can I do anything?"

Looking up, seeing the love and fear in the old man's eyes, Chris smiled weakly. "You're already doing it, Grandpa."

"Well, if there is anything else," Victor went on, "and I mean _anything_ else you need that I can do, you tell me. I love you very much, Chris. You hear me?"

Chris nodded, smile growing. "Yeah, I hear you, Grandpa." Uncomfortable with the emotional moment, he took another gulp of coffee. When he set it down, he not-so-subtly changed the subject. "So . . . I've been meaning to call you to tell you about this girl I met. Other me was engaged to her, and I met her a few months ago. We have our first date tonight."

"Pretty?" Victor asked wiggling his eyebrows, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Chris laughed airily. "Oh, yeah. Definitely. Along with smart and sassy."

The grandfather nodded approval. "The trifecta. Where are you taking this perfect woman?"

"A dance at Magic School," he admitted, making a face. "I know. It's cheesy, right?"

Victor waved him off. "Nonsense. It'll be fun. I have a feeling you two will have a ball."

Chris hoped so. Right now, Bianca was one of the only things keeping him sane. He needed their first date to go well. He needed to feel like a normal guy again. Let himself dare to hope he could experience real love instead of the twisted version forced upon him for weeks. Dare to hope he could actually be okay someday.

He should've known Halliwells are never that lucky.

TBC . . .


	10. Between a Rock and a Hard Place

As always, I take great inspiration from those of you kind enough to leave your words of encouragement. So much so, I got this part done extra quickly :) So thank you to Chrianca, I Live 4 Chris, kkarrot, My name is Prue, Joe, Maggie Potter, Korzy Potterwell, sise87 and Naruto Loves Femkuuybi

Chapter 10

A date. Two people going out and enjoying each other's company. No big deal. Chris had done this countless of times before and considered himself pretty good at it. He'd planned loads of great first dates - rock climbing, day at the beach surfing and taking his motorcycle to the country to have a picnic to name a few. Granted this date would be in front of hundreds of angsty teenagers, but it was still something that would be memorable, which was always his goal.

Patting on his aftershave, which had a subtle spicy, earthy scent, he checked himself out in the mirror. His hair, which he'd had cut shorter as soon as he'd gotten rescued was lightly gelled and styled. He was wearing his favorite silk black dress shirt and black slacks. The collar of the shirt was open, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the next button undone too. He would've in the past, but now, it made him remember how Lamia was always popping the buttons open to play with his chest, and the thought sent a disturbing shudder through him every time he considered undoing it.

Taking a steeling breath, staring into his own eyes in the mirror, he said, "You can do this. It's the first step toward reclaiming your life. Bianca is amazing, and she understands. Nothing is going to happen aside from dinner and talking and if you're not totally spineless, some dancing. Stop freaking out."

With a curt nod to himself, he turned away and headed into the living room. Glancing toward the kitchen he found his brother and grandfather sitting at the kitchen table playing cards. Wyatt had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a big smile on his face. Victor on the other hand was frowning at his cards then shooting suspicious looks at his oldest grandchild.

Leaning against the counter, Chris smirked. "Magic from the east and west, end my brother's naughty jest."

The Twice Blessed's cards shimmered golden, and the run he'd placed on the table earlier revealed cards of non-matching suits out of sequence. Wyatt started laughing as his grandfather threw down his cards and started pointing at him, calling him a cheater.

"Glamouring your cards," Chris chided with a tsk. "What kind of an example is our great and powerful magical leader setting, huh?"

Wyatt shrugged with a smile. "Messing with Grandpa is tradition."

Victor shook his head but his eyes were alight with amusement. He gestured to Chris, "Well, at least one of my grandsons loves me enough to tell the truth. Jeez." Smiling he finished, "Though looks like he's abandoning us to duke it out for ourselves."

"Sure am," Chris concurred. "As much as I love your company, Grandpa, I've got what may be the only better offer."

"Well, you have fun," Victor told him.

Wyatt grinned, adding, "Oh, and Kit, try not to get lost in the cardboard jungle."

The younger brother rolled his eyes. "Thanks. On that note, I'm leaving. See you later."

Considering the brunt of their evening would be on a magical plane of existence, Chris wasn't going to bother with traditional transportation. Normally, he loved taking his motorcycle, a sweet black and white Indian Drifter, but it was more practical to orb rather than leave his baby at the restaurant to fetch later. So, concentrating on Bianca's apartment, he let the sensation of soaring and twirling at indescribable speeds take over as his body burst into hundreds of brilliant white lights.

Reappearing in the familiar setting of Bianca's one bedroom flat, his eyebrows went up at the sight which greeted him. The hardwood floors were shining as though cleaned and waxed. The brown cloth of the furniture looked vacuumed - not a crumb to be found on them. The white side tables had been dusted too. More noticeably, there wasn't a single article of clothing, take out boxes or other remnants of her life haphazardly tossed anywhere.

Bianca was not a clean person. In fact, Chris had called her a slob on several occasions, which she always returned by accusing him of being neurotically organized. To see such a pristine apartment was weird. Maybe she was as nervous as he was?

"Bianca?" he called out. "Take your time, but I just wanted to let you know I was here."

The bedroom door swung open a second later, and Bianca stepped out. The Phoenix was wearing a curve hugging a-symmetrical dress with one shoulder done in white, which waved down the front to the opposite side, while the rest of the dress was black. Clearly noticing his reaction to her appearance, she smiled and spun around slowly. "You like it?"

Throat thick and mouth dry, Chris' eyebrows went up appreciatively as he nodded.

Bianca crossed over to him, brown eyes slowly moving over him to take in his appearance. She smiled coyly. "Not so bad yourself."

When her hand slid to the back of his neck at the same time she started bringing her mouth closer to his, Chris panicked and pulled away. Heart pounding for a whole new reason, he put his hands up between them to stop any other advances. "What are you doing?"

"I thought I would give you a kiss hello," she replied. Rubbing one arm, eyes dropping in disappointment, she went on, "I thought we were at a point I could."

Guilt churned in Chris' stomach as frustration at himself flushed his face. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath to settle the last of the anxiety she'd inadvertently triggered. Opening his eyes again, he tried to catch hers. When she wouldn't look at him, he felt horrible. Taking a minute to mentally talk himself into doing so, he gently lifted her chin, and fighting through a powerful surge of fear, gently kissed her.

Immediately, her hands went to the back of his head, fingers teasing the short hairs, making him involuntarily shiver. As he tried to pull away, she deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue in his mouth to tease his in a sickeningly familiar fashion.

All he could think about was Lamia's tongue doing the same tricks. Her hands playing in his hair. See those damn violet eyes. Chris jerked backward, stumbling into the door so hard the handle rammed painfully into his lower back. Violently shaking, he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Chris?" Bianca softly questioned.

The young man only vaguely heard her, too trapped in memory to be fully present. Images of he and Lamia having sex crowded his mind. He could hear his mental voice screaming in anguish while watching, helpless, as his body reacted to every damn thing she did like he was nothing more than an instrument she was playing. The same powerless, sick feeling he'd had then overwhelmed him now.

"You're terrified of me."

Chris' eyes popped open at the soft, hurt tone. He shook his head to deny her statement as he saw Bianca's brown eyes start to shine. He wanted to tell her out loud that she was wrong. It wasn't her. He trusted her. Only his heart was hammering so hard he half-expected it to explode, and he couldn't get enough air in to get words out.

"What have I done?" the woman asked herself looking smaller than he'd ever seen her. She turned away from him, walking out toward the middle of the room. "This was not what I imagined. It's all wrong."

"Shit," Chris cursed, banging his head back against the wall. He'd never quite felt as pathetic as he did right now. Trapped in a panic attack because his gorgeous girlfriend, probably the love of his life, had dared to kiss him.

Bianca turned to look at him, several tears slipping down her face. Reaching up to lightly swipe at one of the drops, she stared at her finger as though it had somehow betrayed her. Her other hand went to her stomach as she murmured, "Something is wrong with me."

"This is on me," Chris argued. "My issues. I'll be okay in a minute, though, I swear."

Looking dazed, Bianca wiped away the rest of her tears, nodded, then moved into the kitchen. Grabbing a cup down from the cupboard, she filled it with water. Returning to stand in front of him, keeping a safe distance, she offered him the glass. "Drink. It will help steady your breathing."

Taking the glass, Chris' hand was shaking enough the water was spilling over the edges. He took several large gulps. The cool water eased his tight throat, the basic act grounding him in the moment. Pausing to breathe, he pulled the cup away gasping. When he brought the glass back to his mouth, he chugged the rest of the water. By the time he was done, his heart had slowed and breathing returned to normal.

Bianca took the cup from him and placed it lightly in the sink. Leaning against the counter's edge, her hands were gripping it so tightly they were turning white and shaking. With what seemed like great effort she said, "Perhaps this was a bad idea. You should leave."

Chris' heart screeched to a stop. Lips parting, he shook his head in objection as the words weren't coming out. Forcing himself to move closer to her, he stopped a few feet from her. When he managed to catch her gaze, he quietly begged, "Please, don't give up on me."

She opened her mouth as though to argue, but closed it with a sigh. Eyes soft, she quietly told him, "Never." Then, she smiled lovingly at him.

For some reason, Bianca's smile did not make his stomach flip like it always did. It made it churn with nausea. The loving brown eyes he had started to draw comfort and strength from flashed violet in his mind, making his soul go cold. Instinct told him something was wrong. Only, Chris was damaged enough to believe it was all in his head.

If he had listened to his gut, perhaps the night would not have ended in tragedy.

000

After orbing Victor back to his hotel in London to take care of an urgent business matter, Wyatt returned home to try to figure out what to do with the rest of his night. He'd planned on spending time with his grandfather all evening to keep his mind off of worrying about Chris. While he'd tried to play it cool for his brother's sake, he knew tonight was a huge deal. Trying to date after what had been done to him . . . Wyatt couldn't even imagine.

Knowing the full extent of what Lamia had done to Chris, Wyatt wanted nothing more than to find the demoness and show her why demons feared the coming of age of The Twice Blessed. He didn't want to vanquish her. Oh no. He wanted to make her suffer. Rip out her teeth and fingernails. Melt the flesh off her bones. Heal her enough to start the whole process over. He wanted to behave the way Evil Wyatt probably would've in this situation.

Which is why he'd stopped looking for Lamia. Punishing the guilty was a slippery slope he feared falling down. One he would do everything in his power to avoid as it had already cost Chris his life once. He would be damned if he wasted his brother's sacrifice.

Besides, he knew Bianca had it covered. While she hadn't spoken to Chris about her efforts, Bianca was constantly updating Wyatt on new leads regarding the demoness' whereabouts and weaknesses. She'd gone to an oracle who had revealed several viable methods of vanquishing Lamia. Once Lamia was found, and Wyatt had no doubt The Phoenix would be successful in her hunt, the demoness was as good as dead.

Taking a seat on the couch, Wyatt was about to turn on the television when he heard a loud ringing in his ears. Recognizing the call of a charge, he closed his eyes and concentrated on his whitelighter magic to pinpoint which charge was calling and their location. To his surprise, an image of Bianca popped into his mind. While he didn't think she was a charge, he could clearly picture her in an apartment he didn't recognize. Could feel a searing heat rip through his whole body. Without hesitation, Wyatt orbed.

When he materialized in the mystery apartment, The Twice Blessed immediately gagged on the strong smell of burned flesh. Eyes darting around the space, he was nearly sick when he saw the source of the odor. Bianca, lying right outside the boundary of a crystal cage, had skin mottled with red and black scars where the fabric of her clothes hadn't melted to it. Her pretty face was barely recognizable through the severe burns as her singed hair billowed smoke.

"Oh God," Wyatt breathed.

Running, sliding to his knees next to her, he raised his hands over her prone form. Partially out of nerves and partially due to the stench, he held his breath as his inner warmth spread to his palms making them glow golden. The light was slow to spread healing magic through Bianca, but after several minutes, her skin returned to its healthy olive complexion. Even her clothes mended to their previous state.

Bianca groaned, her eyes fluttering open. As consciousness fully returned, the brown went wide, and she bolted upright. "Chris. We have to get to Chris."

"Bianca, what is going on?" Wyatt frantically questioned. "What happened? Did someone attack you two tonight? Who was it? Where is my brother?"

The Phoenix shook her head. "Not tonight. Days ago. At my gallery. Lamia switched places with me, Wyatt. Put me in that damn cage. Tonight was the first time she left me unguarded, so I knew she was going after Chris. Once she left I fought through the cage and called for you."

Wyatt's mouth fell open. "You physically fought your way out of a crystal cage? Are you insane?"

"I knew you would heal me," she replied. "Now, please, for the love of god, tell me you can sense Chris. That she didn't take him and run again."

Panic seized Wyatt at the thought of losing his brother all over again. Of that demon doing the unspeakable to him again. Fear for his sibling made it impossible for him to concentrate. His power to sense slipped out of reach repeatedly. Finally, frustrated, he ground his teeth and fisted his hands, willing his power to obey him. An image of his brother in one of the halls of Magic School sprang to mind.

"They're at Magic School," Wyatt remarked. "She must have had Chris orb them in since she wouldn't have access on her own."

Bianca snorted. "Yeah, me either. Your precious school is a bit biased about the whole shimmering thing." She held out her hand. "Means you're driving, Wyatt. Now let's go make this bitch pay for what she's done to Chris."

Wyatt nodded and grabbed her hand. Transporting them in a tornado of light, concerns about morality disappeared now the prey was within reach. A dark voice in his mind swore Lamia would pay this time. Promised no one could hurt his brother without enduring extreme consequences. He would make Lamia suffer so intensely she'd be begging for the wastelands by the time he was through with her.

He was wrong.

000

Chris had sarcastically suggested the theme for the dance be The Yule Ball in one of the moments during a meeting he'd truly stopped caring. He'd found out after his rescue the students had voted almost unanimously in favor of the Harry Potter inspired theme. He'd had doubts about how exactly they were going to pull it off, but he had to admit he and the others had really outdone themselves.

The Great Hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Chris had brought some of his advanced magic students over yesterday to practice their conjuring, which resulted in the regal tree decorated in silver tinsel and shiny baubles at the back of the room, as well as, the beautiful icicles hanging down every wall like diamonds. Another teacher, Mr. Ubari, had summoned hauntingly beautiful white trees, which were spread throughout. Ms. Lanahand enchanted battery operated candles to float all around the space. His father and Aunt Paige had brought in tables and chairs covered in glittering silver fabric. The many snack tables were filled with his mother's work.

After exchanging greetings with almost all of his students, whose excitement at his presence made him feel incredibly blessed, Chris guided Bianca to a table then fetched them both cups of punch. When he returned, he found her staring off into space for the hundredth time tonight. He sighed. While his career was great, his love life was in the toilet. This date was not going nearly as well as he'd hoped.

Dinner had been nothing short of awkward. She'd poked at her food, hardly saying a single word. She made a special point of keeping a large gap between them at all times, and for some reason, she kept putting her hand to her stomach and getting a strange look on her face. It was like sorrow mixed with guilt. She'd been acting off ever since his reaction to her deepening their kiss. Clearly, he'd hurt her feelings, made her feel like she'd done something wrong.

A slow song started playing, and an idea formed in his mind. The idea scared the hell out of him, but he was tired of living in fear. Tired of letting what Lamia did to him ruin the good things in life. So, pushing past the knot in his stomach, ignoring the way his heartrate was spiking with anxiety, he extended a hand to her. "Dance with me?"

Bianca's eyes darted to his face. Softly smiling, she nodded and took his hand.

Chris lightly put his other hand on her waist and only tensed slightly when she rested hers on his upper arm. Gliding her around the dance floor, he saw the completely content look on her face and smiled. This was good. This was normal. He could do this. The queasy feeling he had in his gut would pass. His heart would not actually jump hard enough to burst out of his chest. It was fine. Really.

As the dance went on, Bianca closed the gap between them, resting her head on his shoulder. She murmured, "I'm so sorry for everything that came before. I really do love you."

A lump in his throat made it nearly impossible to respond, and it took everything he had not to shove her off him. He kept repeating in his head over and over he was fine. He could do this. He hoped maybe if he told himself enough times he might actually start to believe it. So far it wasn't working. So far he felt sick with rising anxiety.

An urge to flee The Great Hall and lock himself in his office became so strong he actually looked toward the entrance, which was when he caught sight of Wyatt waving his arms like a loon in the archway. Chris frowned at his brother, gesturing with his head for the idiot to leave him alone. If he needed help they had a whole horde of family. Tonight was about him facing inner demons.

Then someone stepped up beside Wyatt, and Chris' mind went numb in shock. Bianca. Wearing the same outfit she'd had on when he asked her on this date and glaring at the Bianca in his arms with the purest hatred he'd ever seen on someone's face. Wyatt pointed to the Bianca standing next to him, giving a thumbs up. Then, he gestured to Chris' dance partner making a huge 'x' with his arms.

"What's wrong?" Bianca asked. Only it wasn't really Bianca. It was Lamia.

Staggering backwards, mouth open, and choking on air, Chris could only helplessly shake his head as he realized he'd spent the entire evening with his tormentor. Could only think about how his skin was crawling from having willingly had this demon in his arms _yet again_. He started furiously rubbing his arms, as though he could somehow scrub her off.

"Bianca," Wyatt's voice pulled Chris from his panic. His brother had run over and was standing between him and Lamia now. "There's an emergency back at our place. I could really use you two."

Wetting his lips, Chris forced himself to look at the imposter. Lamia. The demon who had tortured him. Raped him. Who had apparently kidnapped his girlfriend in an effort to take her place. At the thought of Bianca, rage quickly burned away fear. It was one thing for this bitch to come after him, but if she laid one finger on Bianca . . . He was not helpless this time. He was a badass witch damn it. He had his powers, and he would finish what his other self started.

"Sure, Wy," he smoothly picked up. "There are plenty of teachers here. I'm sure Dad won't care if I bail. Especially if it means saving innocents." Smiling at Lamia, hoping she didn't notice the loathing behind it, he asked, "You don't mind, do you?"

The demoness eyed the brothers warily. She wondered, "Which demon are you hunting?"

"It's that ghostly one from the other day, right?" Chris cut in, knowing his brother was a terrible liar. "The Gaki Demon? I'm guessing he latched onto someone new, and you found him?"

Wyatt smiled wide enough anyone could see his molars. He pointed at his brother. "Yes. Yup. That one. So, since he's a ghost type, I need you to read the spell to turn me into a ghost, so I can then say the spell to vanquish him. Bianca, I'd like you to help Chris guard my body."

Lamia agreed, "Very well. We should hurry. Gaki tend to devour their hosts quite quickly."

"I need to let my dad know what's going on," Chris lied to Lamia. "Can you shimmer to our place, and I'll meet you there in a minute?"

"Can people shimmer out of this place?" she asked.

Chris nodded. "Yeah. Just can't shimmer into it."

"Very well," she said. "I'll see you momentarily."

After she'd shimmered away, Chris whipped around to face Wyatt. "Is Bianca all right? What the hell did that psycho do to her?"

"She kidnapped her and locked her in a crystal cage," Wyatt answered. "Bianca is okay. Actually, like a crazy person, she forced her way out of the cage and burned herself like bad rotisserie chicken, but I healed her, and she's fine."

The icicles on the walls started noticeably shaking and several baubles fell off the main tree with tingling crashes. Chris had his hands fisted at his sides, and his normally sage eyes were dark emerald with fury. "Lamia is mine. You hear me, Wyatt? I am the one who gets to kill that demon bitch, and I don't want to hear one damn word about crossing any lines when I do it. She deserves everything she has coming to her."

"Couldn't agree more," Wyatt said. "We need to go though. Bianca set a trap at our place, but I don't like the idea of leaving her alone with Lamia."

Chris didn't waste a second, orbing immediately to their apartment. When he reformed, his gaze first locked on Bianca - _his_ Bianca - and relief at seeing her okay was overwhelming. Then, he shifted his attention to the being currently locked in a crystal cage, who was crying out as Bianca manipulated the crystals to shock her repeatedly. Lamia in her mortal form. Now, she was the prisoner.

While Lamia was in her normal human form, she looked different than he remembered. Less supernaturally beautiful and more humanly pretty. Her red hair was not as luscious or shiny. Her skin was pale rather than luminous. Even her violet eyes were less bright. As Bianca shocked her again, sweat actually beaded on the demon's brow as she screamed his name.

"Are you _fucking_ kidding me right now?" Chris asked her. "You expect me of all people to help you? After what you did to me?"

Lamia, tears welling in her eyes, gasping for air, begged, "Please, don't let her hurt us. I'm changing. More every day. I didn't understand before. I was incapable of true emotions, but Young One - _Chris_ \- I am becoming human."

Wyatt orbed in at this point, and hearing the last statement, questioned, "What did she just say?"

Dread mixed with nausea in Chris' stomach. She had cried, and her surprise at it told him the tears were genuine. Her appearance had changed too. Was it possible? Was Lamia somehow becoming human? If she was human, could he really kill her? From earliest memory, his family had instilled how important it was never to punish the guilty. It was one thing to vanquish a demon, but murder a woman?

Bianca positioned herself in front of him, eyes locking on his. "No. Chris, do not go there. It doesn't matter. Her becoming human is irrelevant. You _were_ human when she waterboarded you and tore the flesh off your body. When she . . ." Bianca clearly couldn't say the word aloud anymore than Chris could. She finished, "She is evil. An evil who for centuries has done terrible things to innocent people. You cannot let her off the hook on a technicality."

Wyatt pointedly stared at his feet. He had promised not to say anything, but his silence spoke volumes.

Lamia shook her head. "Your brother was The Source, but look at him now. Change is possible, Young One. You of all people should believe so."

"Stop talking," Chris snapped. "You are vile. Disgusting. I hate you more than I have hated anyone or anything in my entire life. There is not a damn thing you can say to save yourself now, Lamia. I have no mercy to give you. You burned away all the compassion I ever had to give."

Hatred and rage making his decision, Chris threw out his hands, releasing a burst of lightning down at Lamia, who unleashed a raw, blood curdling scream as the bolts of powerful magic coursed through her, burning flesh and searing her insides. Watching her writhing in agony, Chris felt nothing but vindication. For the teeth and nails she'd ripped from his body. For the lashings. For bringing him to the brink of drowning over and over. Most of all, for the part of his soul she'd destroyed that he may never get back. Vanquishing this irredeemable monster was going to give him his life back. Nothing would stop him from taking his revenge.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, his consciousness pulled inward.

 _Opening his eyes, Chris was in the hallway of an unfamiliar home. Glancing around in confusion, he found family pictures lining the wall. His family. Wyatt and some pretty blonde woman, who was holding a tiny pink bundle in her arms as his older brother looked at the pair with pride and love. Melinda holding up a magazine and pointing to the front picture with a brilliant smile on her face. Various shots of his cousins. His mother and aunts on the sofa looking older. His father reading a story to two children whose backs were to the camera._

 _The sound of a small giggle drew his attention down the hallway. A door on the left was ajar, and he lightly pushed it open to find a tiny girl with brown hair in pigtails sitting with her back to him at a yellow table. The chairs were all filled with various stuffed animals as she fed them plastic cookies and empty tea glasses. One of the toys was Chris' old stuffed bunny. It had been his mother's when she was a little girl, and he'd loved it for no other reason than it made him feel close to her even when she ignored him._

" _No more cookies," the girl informed the bunny with the wag of a finger. "You gonna get a tummy ache. 'Sides we gotta save some for Daddy and Matthew when they come back from Magic School." She tilted her head as though listening then put her hands on her hips. "No, Mr. Cottons, we gotta share. Sharing is nice." She shook her head at some imagined retort then waved her hand, sending the stuffed toy orbing off to the bed in a swirl of white light. "If you can't be nice then you get a timeout. Those are the rules."_

 _Chris smiled. She reminded him of his mom. Small and sassy. He imagined she must be the baby he'd seen in the picture in the hall with Wyatt. His niece. Caught up in the idea of getting to know the little girl he was destined to spoil rotten, he lightly asked, "Was that grumpy old bunny being selfish again?"_

 _The little girl turned around at the sound of his voice, and his heart stopped cold. Violet eyes lit up at the sight of him. She jumped out of the plastic chair and ran toward him with a happy shout of, "Daddy!"_

 _Mouth agape, all air and thought gone, Chris stood in numb shock as tiny arms wrapped around him. He could only silently stare as the little girl - his daughter - hugged him tight with a huge, eerily familiar smile on her face. His smile. Oh God._

" _I drew you a picture," the child told him before darting back into the room. She came back a second later holding a piece of paper up to him. It had a picture of a rainbow with colors not possible in nature, blobs in green that might have been trees, and three figures standing in front of a red house that was actually smaller than the people. She said, "It's you and me and Matthew. Like it?"_

 _Chris was saved from answering by the sound of Leo's voice coming from the opposite end of the hall calling for him. A moment later his father appeared coming up the stairs. Leo smiled brightly at the little girl. "Victoria, I need to borrow your daddy for a second, okay?" Leo's eyes darted to Chris' looking worried. "Chris, can you come with me please?"_

 _Victoria. Like Victor. Chris' head was spinning as he forced a weak smile to the child before automatically moving to follow his father. His thoughts kept circling in his mind like water going down a drain. Lamia hadn't lied. She was pregnant. He was going to have a child with a demon. A daughter. Who had white orbs and lectured toys to share and be nice. Who had her mother's sickening violet eyes. This was so fucked up._

" _Matthew had a rough day today," Leo was saying._

 _Chris had no idea what he was talking about, and his question eloquently came out as, "Huh?"_

" _You can't overreact, Chris," Leo went on. "He feels bad enough about it, and it was just normal little boy behavior." His father paused taking a breath before saying in a rush, "He got into a fight. Used his powers on one of his classmates. No one got hurt, and from all accounts, the other kid was picking on him."_

 _At the edge of the kitchen, Chris stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of a miniature version of himself sitting at the table. Mop of brown hair. Green eyes currently dark with emotion. Chris blinked, not able to process anymore information. His brain was too fixated on one word: Twins._

 _Matthew looked up, eyes shining. "I'm so sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to - honest. I tried to be good. I tried." Then, the child began to cry. "I don't wanna be bad. I wanna be like you. I wanna be just like you."_

Returned to the present, Chris staggered backwards, tripping and falling. Crawling to the small garbage can over by the sofa he heaved into it. His stomach ached from the continued contractions. His dinner tasted bitter on the way up and out, and once he had nothing left to lose, he gagged and coughed at the disgusting taste stuck in his mouth.

Lamia had gotten to her hands and knees. Clothing, skin and hair singed, she was out of breath and half-sobbing. Eyes locked on him, she begged, "Please, no more. You'll kill them. They're innocent. Once they're born you may take your revenge on me, but let them live."

Wyatt dropped to his knees at Chris' side, brown eyes wide and full of worry. "Chris, what happened? What did you see?"

Trembling, Chris turned toward the creature he most loathed in the world. His eyes focused on her stomach. Only able to take shallow, jerky breaths, he stuttered, "She's . . . she's . . . I can't kill her. I can't. They're good. They're - Shit. This is seriously twisted and - Shit. Piss. Fuck!"

"They?" Wyatt questioned. When Chris didn't answer, he looked to Bianca to see if she was following. When The Phoenix dropped her eyes, refusing to look at him, he asked, "What am I missing?"

Chris caught Bianca's evasion and sharply asked, "You knew? You knew, and you still tried to get me to vanquish her? How could you?"

The Phoenix defended, "Because I know what this is going to do to you, Chris, and I wanted to circumvent the problem before it existed. There is no guarantee they won't be evil just like her. Even if they're not, do you honestly think you could love them? Raise them? It will kill you."

"Lamia manipulated me - took away my choices, my free will," Chris darkly returned. "The fact you tried to do the same damn thing? Get out. Do not come back."

Bianca shook her head. "No, Chris. Please. I only wanted to keep you safe. Protect you from her."

"That's your theme song, you know?" Chris retorted. "It was a lousy excuse when you stripped my powers and dragged me back to face Wyatt, and it's an even worse one now. Goodbye, Bianca."

The Phoenix frowned, appearing startled by his words. Regaining her composure, she promised, "We are not done, but I will give you some time." Then, she shimmered out.

Wyatt's brown eyes, swimming with horror, shock and sympathy, locked on Chris. Shaking his head, he breathed, "Kit, tell me it's not true. I'm jumping to conclusions right? Tell me I'm being overdramatic. Tell me I'm an idiot. Please."

Using his pointer finger and thumb to rub moisture from his eyes, Chris couldn't meet his brother's gaze as he brokenly confessed, "I can't tell you any of those things. I projected into the future. I saw . . ." Chris winced unable to finish the thought.

"And they're good," Wyatt repeated his earlier words. "Innocents."

Chris nodded looking miserably down at the floor.

The Twice Blessed raised a hand to place it on his sibling's shoulder, but thinking better of it, dropped it with a heavy breath. He offered, "We'll figure this out, Kit. I promise. First, we just need to figure out what to do with-"

Chris glanced up when his brother suddenly stopped talking. Wyatt's mouth was open as he stared in the direction of the crystal cage. Whipping his head toward it, Chris couldn't believe what he was seeing. He shook his head, heart dropping into his stomach.

Lamia was gone.

TBC . . .


	11. Finding Strength

Thanks to those of you who continue to support this story: kkarrot, sise87, Chrianca, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, and Korzy Potterwell. It's not an easy story to tell, and I'm not a professional writer, so those of you sharing kind words are greatly appreciated. Makes spending my time feel worth it, so again, thank you.

I needed something a little uplifting, so before more drama/action, another bit of fluff. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 11

 _Chris orbed into the conservatory anxious to find out how the sisters had handled the latest demon he'd sent them after. The three looked deep in the middle of discussion, but he wasn't interested in whatever trivial conversation they were involved in this time. If he had to hear about Jason one more time or his mother's - no Piper's - latest boyfriend, he was going to lose it. It's partially why he abruptly asked, "So you vanquished the demon?"_

 _Piper cryptically answered, "Yes . . . and no."_

 _He raised his eyebrows not understanding how that was at all possible and looked to Paige to clarify._

" _Well," Paige began, gesturing nervously with her hands, "the good news is the demon you sent us after is in fact gone."_

 _From her spot in the white wicker chair, Phoebe picked up, "And the bad news is whatever ate it, left us that."_

 _As Phoebe was pointing toward the playpen, Chris shot a look over his shoulder toward it only to find another baby sitting next to Wyatt. The new kid had the same chubby cheeks and big, navy colored eyes all babies seem to have when they're little. What was unique, and made Chris' mouth fall open, was the forked tongue the little monster wiggled at him._

" _Ooh, I think he likes you," Paige quipped._

 _Great. They thought this was funny. A demon was literally sitting right next to his brother, and they didn't think a thing of it. How were these three so cavalier about everything? No wonder something got to Wyatt. He whirled back around on them, stating firmly, "I don't care. Vanquish it."_

" _Chris," Phoebe said his name in that way she always did when she didn't like what he had to say._

 _What else was new? They didn't approve of anything he did in this time. Some of it he understood and had expected. The secrets and manipulation he'd known would be hard for them to accept, and he'd been fully prepared to deal with their mistrust and even blatant dislike. What he had not been prepared to deal with was their laziness and irresponsibility. He knew they all wanted their own lives, and he got that, but he never imagined they'd put that desire above helping an innocent. Above saving the billions of people he was trying to keep alive in his future. Above keeping Wyatt safe. It was heartbreakingly disappointing._

 _Frustrated, he snapped, "I mean it. Now."_

 _Looking completely disgusted, Paige argued, "No, we are not vanquishing a baby. What is wrong with you?"_

 _Many things. Many levels. Most of which caused by losing nearly everyone he loved to horrific deaths at the hands of demons, warlocks and even Wyatt himself. Watching the city he loved burn with the rest of the world. Knowing nearly every magical creature of any power had joined his brother's side within the first two years of the war. Killing a monster - not a baby - was prudent battle strategy. One less demon for Wyatt to use to slaughter those opposing him._

 _Instead of saying any of that he played on their need to protect their family at any cost. He blatantly lied, "I'm just concerned this could be the future evil that gets to Wyatt."_

" _Don't be ridiculous," Paige sniped._

" _I'm being ridiculous?" Chris repeated incredulously. He gestured toward the creature. "There is a demon in the playpen."_

 _The memory shifted, images changing. Phoebe and Paige were gone, and he was alone with Piper in the conservatory. Bent over the table looking at an entry in The Book of Shadows titled Manticores, he read aloud, "Vicious demons with supernatural strength and venomous claws. Manticores communicate with high pitched cries and tend to travel in packs." Glancing up at Piper he dryly remarked, "Great. Well, I say we get rid of the little brat before the pack comes looking for him."_

" _Okay, fine," she returned in her mockingly calm tone. "What do you suggest we do with him? Call Social Services?"_

" _No," he drew out. "I say you vanquish it."_

" _Chris," Piper argued, "I'm a mother. I can't go around vanquishing babies no matter how evil they are."_

 _That was the kicker. She saw the thing as a baby. A sweet little bundle of joy who may or may not grow up to murder countless innocents. She had hope nurture could prevail over nature. Chris didn't have the luxury of such idealistic viewpoints. In his world, hope got you killed. By demons. Like this one. How to convince this innocent version of his mother that though? No. Not Mom. Piper. Damn it._

" _It's not about how evil he is," Chris started slowly, pacing. "It's about how evil he's gonna be. You gotta stop looking at him like he's a little baby and start looking at him like an unstoppable killing machine because that's what he is."_

" _I realize that but still-"_

 _Chris cut in, "But still nothing. You're supposed to protect the innocents, right? Well, think about all the future innocents you can save by vanquishing him right now."_

" _Don't you think I know that?" Piper countered. "I'm scared to death of what he can possibly do to Wyatt, but I can't even separate them."_

 _Chris locked a firm gaze on her. "Piper, there is one thing you can do, and you know it. And you better do it fast before any other Manticores show up. There's no known vanquishing potion."_

 _The eldest Charmed One closed her eyes against his truth. With a helpless shrug, she affirmed, "I just can't do it."_

Chris opened his eyes to be greeted by the dark of night. Letting out a heavy breath, he scrubbed a hand over his face as one fact became crystal clear. He was starting to fully remember Other Chris' life.

It felt like he'd been the one in the conservatory fiercely believing vanquishing the baby was the right decision. He could summon to mind every last, logical reason he'd had for thinking so. Could vividly feel the frustration he felt with his family for not doing what was necessary to safeguard the world against a possible threat.

It was ironic really. After giving her such a hard time about not vanquishing the demon baby, he now found himself in his mother's shoes. Found himself questioning if he had it in him to kill a baby just because it had evil in its blood. Wondering what mattered most: Nature or nurture. Funny how when he needed it most, all that clear-cut certainty was gone.

"Fuck," he breathed, closing his eyes.

For one minute and only one minute, he let the hopeless feeling drown him. Let himself accept that no matter what choice he made, he was going to be ruined. After all, how could he ever live with himself if he vanquished them? He'd seen them. Learned their names. Witnessed their desire to be good. Then again, how the hell could he possibly raise the offspring of the demoness who'd tortured and raped him when the mere thought of it made him sick?

He bitterly repeated, "Fuck."

Minute over, Chris opened his eyes and shoved down his swirling emotions. He wouldn't allow himself to dwell on them anymore. He wouldn't think about the children right now either. There was no decision to be made until Lamia was found and recaptured anyway. So, he became laser focused on a task he could actually do something about. He turned his head to look at the clock. Three in the morning. Guess it was going to be an exceedingly early day then. He had work to do.

After taking a quick shower, not even realizing how he hadn't suffered a single panic attack, he dressed, snagged one of the crystals from the floor, and orbed over to the manor. Appearing in the kitchen, he made quick work of brewing coffee then headed upstairs to the attic to start his research.

Based on his own experience with the demoness, as well as, various readings on magic during the height of the Greek Gods, Chris decided to test his current theory on how Lamia had escaped. Mixing a few herbs and blessing the concoction with his blood, he poured the potion over the crystal. A black mist slowly swirled up and away before the crystal flashed white with good magic.

"She infects it," he murmured.

A powerful sorceress in a time when witches and others of the craft could practice openly, he'd now proven Lamia had learned how to taint the spells of witches. It didn't matter how powerful the magic cast. She could twist it to her will, and suddenly, the power was hers to use. It meant trapping her was going to be tricky. Knowing what he was up against now, he thought he had some ideas though.

Taking a swig of coffee, Chris spent the next hours devouring everything ever written about the demoness, Hera or the curse. He added various notes to the margins of the texts based on his experiences and the frequent flashes of random knowledge popping into his head as he read. Like how he suddenly knew of at least three lairs where the demoness had lived in the other timeline, and the names of several demons she had gone through to get him messages in 2004. In this life, he knew half a dozen aliases she used above ground. Where his family had failed for a month, Chris was positive he could track Lamia in a week tops. Less if he decided to forgive Bianca and guilt her into helping him.

He set his pen down and sighed. After his dream last night he could understand why Bianca tried to get him to vanquish Lamia without telling him about the pregnancy. His other self would have done the same thing if the roles were reversed. They were both determined, passionate and willing to manipulate and keep secrets to achieve a desired end. It didn't make what she'd done right, but it made it a helluva lot harder to hold it against her. Part of him had forgiven her already. It just might not make a difference.

Bianca hadn't been in the future he'd seen. None of the pictures on the wall had the phoenix in them, and Victoria - no, the girl - hadn't doodled a mother figure. If he decided to let the babies be born, Bianca may not understand. She might leave him, and he wasn't entirely sure he'd even blame her. It was a lot to ask of her. Especially since the mere thought of the babies made his mind go numb as though dunked in ice water. Made his stomach twist so tight he thought he may vomit up all his innards. Worst of all, it made his heart _hurt_.

Blowing out a breath to stop himself from slipping down the steep slope to despair, Chris' attention was caught by a box setting in the corner with his name scrawled on the top in his mother's loopy handwriting. While dusty, the box appeared to have been opened recently. The tape keeping it closed had been cut open, and the cardboard flaps were cracked open.

Moving mechanically toward it, not sure why, Chris dropped to his knees and wiped the remaining dust from the top of the box. Opening it fully, his breath caught at what he found inside. A picture of himself playing blocks with baby Wyatt. It was Other Chris, and without a dream or a projection into another time, he remembered this moment.

It was the day Grandpa had stopped by to visit and tried way too hard to bond. They'd gone to supper, and he found himself opening up to his grandfather like he always did. He'd finally broken the rules and let something slip about the future. How his mother died when he turned fourteen.

Well, that explained why the family had been on high alert the weeks before and after that particular birthday. Grandpa must have warned them. Otherwise, he may have lost his mother in this timeline too. Watched helpless and trapped as she bled to death on the kitchen floor. He could actually remember the feel of her warm blood slicking his hands. Felt her body go horrifyingly still in his arms as the last breath left. See her loving brown eyes cloud over as they stared into eternity. The event. It had changed his life - changed him - forever.

A magical breeze blew the photo from his hand. It landed upside down on the floor revealing more of his mother's familiar scrawl on the back of the picture. The ink was blurred in spots. His mother had been crying as she wrote the message. Picking it up, Chris read:

 _Chris - 2004. I treasure this one picture I have of you, and I want you to know you will never, ever be forgotten. I'm so proud of you. Thanks to you, Little Chris and Wyatt will always be this close and happy. Someday, I'll show them this picture and tell them all about how you saved our family and the world. Until then, love always - Mom._

In the other timeline, he and his mother had shared a special bond. With his father absent, aunts busy with their own families and Wyatt moody and detached at a young age, they were all each other had. They'd been incredibly close. In the past, that relationship had started to form again but then he'd died on her. Knowing that - feeling it now - he understood. Seeing him grow up into the son she'd lost, who reminded her of her dead sister, had to have killed his mother. No wonder she couldn't stand to get close again.

Moving to set the picture carefully back into the box, he froze as he saw what else was there. Thoughts stuck, it took a minute before a trembling hand reached in to grab the too familiar object. The bunny. Passed down from his mother to him. Possibly from him to his . . .

Attempting to avoid looking at the toy, his eyes landed on the next item in the box. His old blanket. Numbly, he pulled it out, staring at the triquetra embroidered on it. The symbol of his family's neverending connections. Family had always meant everything to him. In both timelines, he was of one mind on that. Anything for family.

Breath hitching, hands growing even shakier, he couldn't stop staring at these two objects imbued with so many emotional meanings. Innocence. Legacy. Connection. Love. Family. Children. At the last thought, he squeezed his eyes shut as pain and confusion slapped him hard.

"Chris?"

Jerking back to the present with a start, he frantically shoved everything back in the box then bolted to his feet. Turning, he found his mother standing in the middle of the attic in her favorite white bathrobe, hair tossed in a messy ponytail. Her brown eyes were soft, full of love and hope and sorrow and about a hundred other emotions he couldn't even name.

"Please, don't go," she pleaded, holding her hands out as though she could freeze him.

He ran a hand through his hair as he realized his previously complicated relationship with his mother was now utterly incomprehensible even to him. Love and anger and hurt and longing were all jumbled up in his head and heart now. Letting out a breath, he replied, "Okay."

"Really?"

The hope on her face at the mere prospect of spending a few minutes together panged his heart. Still, he couldn't forget all that had come before or forgive it so quickly. Crossing his arms, he firmly informed her, "I want a relationship with you, Mom. I do. But, if we have a chance at starting over, you need to listen to me and respect what I'm about to tell you. I do not want to talk about what happened. Not now. Maybe not ever. Do not push, or you'll shove me right out of your life for good."

Sucking in her lips in an attempt not to cry, she asked, "Can I just tell you one thing first? Then we never have to talk about it again if that's what you want."

A large part of him wanted to say no, but he found himself nodding permission instead.

"I am so sorry I didn't find you," she told him, the tears finally falling. "I tried every spell, and called in every contact. Spent every hour of every day trying to find you - get you home. And I know it doesn't change anything, but if I could've taken your place, I would've. I would gladly take all of your pain if I could. I wish I could."

Chris took a shaky breath. "I appreciate the sentiment, but no, it doesn't change anything." He dropped his eyes to his shoes, finishing, "It's not fixable."

"Peanut," she said, catching his eyes, "is there anything I _can_ do?"

Meeting her gaze he found no judgment - just love and an earnest desire to help. He could work with that. Wanting to break the emotional moment while also letting her know the door to forgiveness was open, Chris plucked his empty mug from the table and smiled weakly at her. "Think I could get more coffee?"

Piper smiled, the brilliant, toothy smile she had that could light up a room. "I think I can manage that. In fact, would you happen to want some caramel rolls with that coffee?"

His mouth fell open. "Seriously? I thought those were for special occasions only."

"My son decided to give me a second chance," she answered softly. "Doesn't get more special than that."

Chris smiled, ducking his head. This was the mother Other Chris remembered, and he had to admit, it felt good to have her in _his_ life. No matter what happened when he found Lamia, what he decided, he would need the legendary strength of Piper Halliwell in his corner. Her conviction. Her wisdom. Simply put, he would really need his mom.

As she left the attic with shining eyes and a smile on her face, Chris shoved the box back in the corner and started putting everything else away next. The last thing he needed was his family to know he was planning on hunting Lamia. They'd become an overprotective nightmare, and he needed to handle this without them. Especially until he decided exactly what it was he planned to do.

Moving to close the Book of Shadows, the book had other ideas. The pages blew open to a picture of a red skinned, black tattooed demon with several pages written in his Aunt Phoebe's handwriting. Taking the hint, Chris skimmed the pages and quickly realized the entries were all about her first husband, Cole. He swallowed thickly as he made the connection. Cole was half-demon. Someone in the afterlife apparently knew he had questions on the subject.

Reading through everything, Chris was even more torn. His aunt had been pregnant by the Source, but she'd originally thought it was Cole's. Until she learned the truth, she'd planned to keep it even though Cole had constantly flipped between good and evil. She wrote demonic blood didn't necessarily mean someone was fated to be evil. Chris supposed he believed that. After all, Wyatt had been The Source, and he was literally half-angel.

Turning through the pages about the infamous Cole Turner, Chris' mouth fell open as an unfamiliar script suddenly appeared on the bottom of the last page. It said, "Trust your instincts. You'll know what to do when the time comes. - Prue."

Glancing up at the ceiling, he murmured, "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Here's hoping I don't blow it."

"Here we go," his mother announced, returning with a tray containing several large, piping hot caramel rolls, and what could have passed for bowls of coffee. She set it down on the table then turned toward him with a slight frown. Cocking her head, she questioned, "What's goin' on?"

Shrugging, eyes sliding to the side, he replied, "Nothing. Just, you know, doing some research."

"Huh," she practically hummed in disbelief. "I see. Well, do you need any help?"

Chris flashed to a time when she'd been six months pregnant with him, and he'd ran up the stairs pretending not to hear her almost desperately ask him the same question. How he'd had a sharp pang of guilt at pushing her away but was too scared not to.

"Chris?" she prompted.

He shook his head to clear it. "Um, no. I've got it. Thanks." When her face fell, regret filled his stomach, and he found himself adding, "But since I plan on taking a break to enjoy your famous caramel rolls, I wouldn't mind the company."

"Okay," she said taking a seat. When he strode over to sit across from her, she promptly handed him the giant coffee cup and a plate containing a treat normally reserved for birthday breakfasts or holidays.

Cutting off a big bite and popping it in his mouth, Chris closed his eyes as the hot, gooey roll and thick, sweet caramel melted on his tongue. He involuntarily moaned. Swallowing he opened his eyes to find his mother looking like she was going to burst with joy. Nothing ever made her happier than someone enjoying her food. "It's even better than I remember."

"I'm glad to hear."

Sipping his coffee and taking a few more wonderful bites, he decided to ask a question that had been bothering him since he woke up this morning. "I've been wondering, do you happen to know what happened to that Manticore Baby?"

His mother's eyebrows shot up. "The Manticore Baby. How'd you find out about him?" Carefully, she asked, "Are you starting to remember more from those dreams?"

"Sort of," he answered with a vague portion of the truth. He put his hands around his coffee mug to avoid fidgeting. The warmth was calming. "Anyway, I was curious. I had, I mean _he_ had, wanted you to vanquish him, but in the end his dad was human, and you decided to save them both. Do you know did the kid grow up to be, you know, good?"

She folded her arms into the sleeves of her white robe, nodding. "Actually, yes. I've stayed in touch with Derek over the years in case it ever became necessary to strip Nick's powers. So far, everything is going well. Nick actually works as a firefighter, and he recently got engaged to a witch. Your dad and I are invited to the wedding next fall."

"So, he was more or less a normal guy," Chris surmised. "Able to resist the demonic part of himself."

"Yeah," she answered, eyes narrowing knowingly. "Why? Chris, what's this really about? You're playing nonchalant, but the way you're talking and acting is exactly how . . ."

"How . . .?"

His mother raised a finger, shaking it. "Oh no. I'm not saying it because it will give you yet another reason to hate me. To say I don't know you, and I'm seeing ghosts, and I can't fight with you anymore, Chris. I can't. It hurts too much. Especially now after . . . everything."

"I don't hate you," he refuted staring into his coffee. "I never did. When I said I never wanted to see you again I was really angry, and I wanted to hurt you. I didn't mean it."

"It'd be understandable if you did," she replied. "I've made a lot of mistakes with you. I just hope I can make it right."

Starting to feel overwhelmed by the weight of the conversation, Chris downed the rest of his coffee and reluctantly left his half eaten roll on his plate as he stood up. "Listen, Mom, this was actually . . . it was okay, but I need to get going. Got some business to take care of."

To her credit, Piper managed to wipe the disappointment from her face fairly quickly and force a smile for him. "Sure, yeah, okay." She hesitated before venturing, "I don't suppose you might be willing to stop by for supper sometime? I found a great recipe for eggplant parmigiana."

Chris' stomach rolled at the mention of the meal Lamia had forever ruined for him. He countered, "Mel says you make a mean Pad Thai. Could we have that instead?"

"Absolutely," she concurred.

He shoved his hands in his pockets nodding. "Then, I'll give you a call in the next few days, and we can figure out what works." He was about to orb out when he had a second thought and paused. "Mom . . . thanks."

Her face split into a wide smile. "Anytime, Peanut. This will always be your home, and I will always love you."

Much like he had as a child, Chris found comfort in her smile. In her mere presence. He felt like no matter what choice he made he would actually be able to count on her support if/when he told her what was really going on. It meant a lot. Like having his mother in his corner meant everything might actually be okay. He had no idea how, but it was a nice thought.

000

Watching her baby boy disappear in a swirl of lights, Piper kept a smile firmly fixed on her face despite the fact her heart was breaking. After everything her son had been through, all he had survived, she couldn't believe Fate could be so cruel as to do something like this to him. Put him in an impossible position like this.

As soon as he was gone, Piper's hand flew to her mouth and she half-staggered to the sofa. Sinking onto the worn cushions, her breath hitched and tears flowed freely as she eyed the box in the corner of the attic.

She'd just witnessed Phoebe's vision. Her son, hands shaking, staring at his old baby things. A vision her sister had kept having while Chris was being held captive by that demon who had . . . Piper let out a choked sob at the thought.

Everything was starting to make a terrible, sickening sense. Phoebe's other premonition about Chris saying he wasn't strong enough to do something . . . how he couldn't look at a mysterious _them_. Now, her son had been asking about Nick, wondering if a half-demon could be good. It wasn't a random pondering. Everything Chris did had a purpose. Always.

Lamia was pregnant, and Chris was trying to figure out what to do. He was confused and hurting and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to help him. He didn't want to talk about it, and she'd promised not to push or pry. Considering how disastrous confronting him had gone last time, Piper would never make the same mistake twice. He had to come to her on his own terms and in his own time, but how could she let him suffer alone? How could she do nothing when her little boy was going through something so unimaginably painful?

A voice Piper hadn't heard in over twenty-five years softly replied, "Just be there when he needs you, Piper."

Piper looked around the room in shock. "Prue?"

"Chris is finding his way," Prue's voice assured. "It will all work out as it's meant to. Have faith."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Piper soaked in the sound of her big sister's voice. Let it calm her and give her strength like it had so many times before in her life. Somehow, knowing Prue was watching over her family gave Piper hope. Her big sister had never let her down in life, always protecting the family. Piper was able to believe she could guide her son through this without pushing him away . . . somehow.

TBC . . .


	12. Out of the Frying Pan

Thank you so much to Korzy Potterwell, kkarrot, and Naruto Loves FemKuuybi for taking the time to share your thoughts with me. I love hearing what you guys think. Special thanks to sise87 to whom I dedicate this chapter for being so kind as to bring me out of a funk. Your kind words of encouragement meant a lot to me.

Chapter 12

The gallery was unusually busy for a weekday afternoon. Clusters of patrons dressed in their finest were perusing the various exhibits with their noses in the air and their pocketbooks at the ready. Chris wasn't sure what was going on to draw in such a crowd, but it was making him exceedingly uncomfortable. It was nearly impossible to get through the space without people bumping into him or brushing against him, and every single miniscule contact made him cringe.

An older gentleman in a sharp grey suit worth more than everything Chris owned turned toward him, his face instantly twisting into an appraising glance over. "Jack Russett and you are?"

"Not part of the exhibit," Chris bit out.

Just as the man began to look affronted, Bianca appeared next to the patron, taking his arm and smiling sweetly up at him. Chris didn't like the way her other hand fiddled with the man's jacket collar, but Bianca edged him a look which stayed his tongue. To Jack she flirtatiously said, "Mr. Russett, I am so honored you could come to the silent auction today. Your presence has truly raised the level of sophistication for the entire event."

"Yes, well," Jack returned, "you do have spectacular style and an eye for special pieces. It's why I frequent your quaint little gallery."

Bianca laughed, and the fake quality to it made Chris fist his hands. Noticing his reaction, the Phoenix moved away from her client and gestured to the witchlighter. "I'm so sorry. How rude of me. This is my friend, Chris."

"Another of your models?" the wealthy man wondered

Chris raised his eyebrows at Bianca, who was deliberately ignoring him.

She corrected, "No, Chris is actually a teacher."

"Oh," Jack drew out. "How . . . nice."

Working his jaw in irritation, Chris edged a sharp look to The Phoenix. "I need to speak with you. Now."

Smiling flirtatiously at Jack, Bianca put her hand on the older man's shoulder, turning him toward one of the sculptures setting by the near wall. She gestured at it while she told him, "I think this is the one you'll want to keep an eye on today. I saw it and instantly thought of you. It's bold, innovative and one of a kind."

"You so flatter me, Dear," Jack said looking at Bianca in a way Chris did not appreciate.

The Phoenix ran her hand up and down the man's arm batting her eyelashes at him. "You make it easy. Now, why don't you examine this piece, and I'll be right back to show you some others I think you may find fit your collection to perfection."

Once Jack was thoroughly engaged in studying the art piece Bianca had directed him toward, she turned to Chris and jerked her head toward her office. The pair slipped through the crowds in silence, Bianca leading the way and Chris glaring at the back of her head.

Closing the door to Bianca's office behind him slightly harder than necessary, Chris gestured back toward where they'd come from harshly questioning, "What the hell was that about? That guy was a total jerk, and you were all over him."

"He's one of my best clients," Bianca explained, folding her arms. "It's harmless ego stroking. Besides, you made it quite clear the other night whatever was between us was over, so why do you even care?"

"Don't give me that," Chris returned. "The first year of our relationship was nothing but hooking up and breaking up. We never agreed on anything except for the fact we couldn't quit each other. So you knew damn well I'd be pissed off you were getting handsy with old man money out there."

Bianca's lips parted, eyes growing soft. "You remember?"

Chris blinked. The words had just tumbled out of his mouth without thought. Did he actually remember any of it? He frowned trying to recall something specific. No images came to mind, but he knew they'd fought about right and wrong - about her role as Wyatt's assassin - frequently. Instinctively, he knew anger sparked passion, and the fights almost always wound up with them on top of a desk, against a wall or on the floor. He flushed at the thought.

"Chris?" she prodded.

He cleared his throat and gave a one shouldered shrug. "Sort of."

"Sort of?"

Running a hand through his hair, he sighed. "Like everything else in my life, it's complicated. Lately, I just know things. Facts and feelings pop up randomly. Though, my dreams of his memories are clearer, and they stick with me."

Bianca tossed her hair back behind her shoulder and nodded. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth in a way he suddenly knew meant she was incredibly nervous or worried, she hesitantly wondered, "So what does this mean for us?"

"I guess that depends," Chris answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. "The feelings he had for you are intense, but they're still _his_ , created from all these shared experiences we don't have yet. Hell, we haven't even gone on a first date. Not to mention, I come with some seriously screwed up baggage."

Leaning back against her desk, Bianca lightly challenged, "Because dating the leader of a resistance against The Source, who happened to be his big brother, was such a cake walk? Did I mention Wyatt killed me?"

He lowered his eyes to the floor between them, not quite able to hold her gaze. "The situation last time was bad, but it was outside forces making it hard. This time it's me. My issues and . . . decisions."

"You're going to let them live," Bianca surmised. "Chris, their mother is literally the mother of monsters. Those aren't babies. They-"

"They are though," Chris refuted. He swallowed the horrible lump in his throat, ignored the rising nausea in his belly. "I saw them, Bianca. I projected into the future, and I _met_ them. A girl named Victoria for my grandfather. A boy named Matthew after Wyatt. They seemed good, and I can't condemn them for crimes their mother committed. Especially not when magic or destiny or _something_ wants them to live. Why else would I have been projected into the future at that precise moment?"

Bianca crossed her arms, shaking her head in frustration. "Raising those children will destroy your spirit, Chris. I know you. You will give it everything you have because you're a good man, but they will be a permanent reminder of the worst things to have ever happened to you. They will tie you to that pain forever."

"You think I could ever really escape it?" Chris threw back. "That demon stole part of me I can never get back. I could literally feel her sucking out my essence like an icy black hole, and no amount of time is going to make me forget that feeling. Make me whole again."

"I understand that," Bianca said, "but having a visual reminder day in and day out is going to make it so much worse. Not to mention, what do you plan on telling them when they get older about how they came to be?"

Chris snapped, "I don't know, okay? All I know is they exist, and the idea of vanquishing babies who haven't done anything wrong . . . I just can't do it. But yeah, the idea of raising Lamia's children makes me fucking sick. The only other option is to strip their powers when they're born and give them up for adoption, but I don't know if I could move on knowing they were out there. I'd always wonder how they were - if they were good and safe."

Tilting her head, eyes softly sympathetic, Bianca asked, "So how do you want play this, Chris?"

Shrugging helplessly, he admitted, "I have no idea. Every option sucks."

"Well," Bianca offered, "no matter what you decide, I will do what I can to support you."

A weight he hadn't even known was pressing on him lifted. "Really?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, smiling weakly. "I can't quit you, remember?"

Ducking his head with a grin, he replied, "No . . . but I'm starting to."

000

Bianca saw more of the old Chris peeking through every day, but he didn't even seem to recognize all the changes in himself. How he'd started scanning a room the moment he entered it, pinpointing possible threats as well as available exits. The ease with which he blended into demonic pubs and knew just how to pull information from informants in a way he hadn't been able to even a week earlier. His familiarity with obscure parts of The Underworld. The way he spoke and held himself. The way he'd stare so intensely at her when he didn't think she was looking.

Between the two of them, it had taken five days to track Lamia. If the former assassin was being honest, most of it was Chris' doing. He'd known the demoness' habits, aliases and contacts, using the information to hunt doggedly for Lamia in a way Bianca remembered him doing in the war against Wyatt.

She couldn't help but think his history with his brother was playing a bigger role in his decision process than he knew. If his evil, insane Source of All Evil sibling could be saved, then perhaps he could guide his unborn children to the light too. For the sake of his sanity, Bianca hoped he was right, or she was helping him venture down a rabbit hole there would be no way out of again.

Currently, they were in a demonic pub in a part of The Underworld located somewhere below London. Chris was smooth talking a Limbo demon who had served as a go-between for his other version and Lamia back in 2004. The demon still worked for her and had agreed, for a price, to tell Chris where his master was currently hiding. As The Phoenix made the little man jumpy, she had agreed to take a seat during their negotiations, so she could only watch as Chris gestured with his hands while agreeing to terms with the demon.

When Chris pulled a vial out of his coat pocket, Bianca conjured an athame under the table expecting things were about to get chaotic. Only instead of vanquishing the demon with a potion, Chris merely handed the bottle to him. Whatever the demon said next made all the color drain from Chris' face. Then, the Limbo demon vanished in a puff of smoke.

Concerned, Bianca swiftly slipped from her seat and crossed the room to Chris' side. When he didn't look at her, green eyes focused unseeingly on the blood stained pub floor, she risked lightly putting her hand on his arm to get his attention. Instantly, she regretted it.

Chris jerked violently backward, bumping into a warlock seated at the bar, who in turn grabbed the witchlighter by the collar of his jacket and threw him against the bar top. While Chris knew how to fight, could have easily escaped the hold using one of several moves - or just orbing - he didn't, and Bianca realized he was stuck in his mind.

As the warlock pulled out an athame, Bianca grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back and ramming his face into the corner of the bar. Swiping the dagger, she kicked out his knees, dropping the man to the floor. She swiftly placed the blade at his throat. Moving her lips to his ear, she warned, "He's under my protection. Now move along."

With a frustrated growl the warlock shimmered to the other side of the room, rubbing his throat where his own athame had kissed the skin. When a drunk darklighter pointed and laughed at him, the warlock picked up a pool stick and rammed it through the darklighter's chest, sending him up in flames. Shortly after a brawl broke out in the pub.

Returned to the moment, Chris slid over the bar to avoid an energy ball, which went flying past his ear. Throwing out a hand, he sent a bolt of lightning back at his attacker, who screamed within a burst of sparks before being blown to bits.

Bianca tossed a Shocker demon over her shoulder, finishing him off with an energy ball before dropping to the floor to sweep the feet out from under a Hawker and throwing a Charmed Potion at him, leaving nothing but a scorch mark on the filthy wood panels.

Ducking as a harpy went soaring over his head, Chris popped back up to quip, "You really know how to show a guy a good time, you know?"

"You started it," Bianca argued, throwing an athame into the chest of a darklighter who had taken aim at Chris.

Chris swung his arm out, whipping several Kazi demons into the wall. Clenching his hand into a fist, he squeezed their hearts until the large demons exploded in a burst of pyrotechnics. Turning to Bianca, he refuted, "So not my fault."

The air rippled and a group of Manticores appeared, and their sights immediately set on the witches.

"Time to go," Chris called over to Bianca. "Follow my orb trail."

Without question, as soon as she saw him go up in light, she shimmered after him. When she materialized, her stomach dropped at the sight of a cavern she'd hoped never to see again. A table covered in ruddy stained instruments. Chains and straps and a torture table. Worst of all was the sight of the bed covered with white satin sheets.

Chris' eyes were focused on the bed, and he swallowed hard enough his Adam's apple bobbed. Hands fisting at his sides, a subtle quiver ran through him. His voice sounded unnaturally tight as he explained, "She came back here. That's what the Limbo demon told me. A few weeks ago, she moved back in here."

"Chris . . ."

Ignoring her, he turned his head toward the torture table and mechanically walked toward it. His hand went to the top strap, and he rubbed his thumb over the leather where dents marred the black strip. Numbly, he commented, "I tried to bite through it. When she waterboarded me, I got hysterical and actually thought I could chew through the strap. It's hard to explain that kind of torture. Ice water up to my shoulders. Rushing into my nose, mouth, ears. I think I know how my Grandma Patty felt right before she died . . . only I experienced it over and over and over. It was the moment Lamia broke me."

Bianca sucked in a breath. He never talked about what happened. Never. Part of her had been relieved about that fact. The selfish part who didn't want to have to hear about the kind of pain and suffering the man she loved had endured.

Throwing out a hand, Chris sent the table flying into the opposite wall with enough force it shattered with a loud crash. He then proceeded to toss the table across the room followed by telekinetically ripping down every chain and suspension bar in the cavern. Finally, he turned toward the bed. Green eyes swirling like a stormy sea full of thunderous rage and sweeping sorrow, he raised his hands and decimated the bed with lightning until only ash floated in the air.

The Phoenix said nothing. Didn't move a muscle. She watched and waited. After the anger always came a crash. She would be ready when he fell. She would always catch him. So, when Chris had finished his rampage, brow slicked with sweat, she moved to stand in front of him. Catching his eyes, she tried to convey support and love without words.

"I hate her," he said through ragged breath.

"I know."

"I hate what she did to me."

"I know," Bianca gently affirmed again.

Chris turned his head away, voice cracking as he admitted, "Most of all I hate what I _let_ her do to me. What I'm _still_ letting her to do to me." Edging a look back at her, his eyes were tellingly bright. "No matter what I do I will never be free."

"Yes, you will," Bianca firmly refuted. "The memories will fade. Someday, the wounds she left on your soul will start to heal. I promise."

Letting out a heavy breath, Chris turned his back to her and moved over to the wall. Picking up a dagger from the floor where he'd sent the table crashing earlier, he ran the edge over his palm. When blood sprang from the wound, he dipped a finger in it and started drawing an unfamiliar symbol on the rocks.

"Can I help?" Bianca asked.

"The wards have to be done in elder blood." He glanced over his shoulder. "Keep a lookout, though. She could be back any second."

After placing the last ward on the final wall, Chris began chanting in a language Bianca thought may have been Greek. When he was done, every symbol he'd drawn glowed blue before sinking into the wall. He murmured, "So mote it be."

The air rippled and Lamia appeared in the middle of a passionate embrace with a tall, lean young man with shaggy brown hair, which she fisted as she jumped up to wrap her legs around the stranger's waist. The youth moaned in pleasure, pushing her up against the wall as his mouth made a desperate path down her throat to her chest.

Bianca shot a look to Chris to find the witchlighter had gone pale again. Lips parted, eyes locked on Lamia, his face contained flashes of so many different emotions Bianca couldn't hope to interpret all of them. Though, as Lamia's target had the same build and coloring as Chris, she imagined he was picturing himself. Remembering being the one under her spell.

A white light poured from the young man's mouth into Lamia's and something in Chris snapped. Face hardening, eyes scorching emeralds, he growled, "Let him go, Lamia."

The demoness glanced up at the sound of his voice, and the sickest sort of happiness filled her features. She immediately unwrapped her legs, hopping down and pushing away her partner, who whined piteously at being denied her touch. With an irritated glare, she told him, "You're not my beloved. You were merely food." When she turned to Chris, her expression softened again, and she lovingly breathed, "Young One . . . you came back to me."

"No." Chris shook his head.

Lamia smiled, patting her abdomen. "To us."

The young man she'd brought with her wrapped his arms around the demoness from behind, kissing her neck. "I need you. Please. . ."

Chris flinched at the words. Breathing getting heavier, shaky, he ordered, "Release your hold on him, Lamia. Now."

"The curse isn't fully lifted," Lamia replied. "You wouldn't want our children to starve, would you?"

Bianca's eyes darted back and forth between the demoness and the witchlighter. Lamia was a master manipulator, and The Phoenix had a heavy dread forming in her stomach as she saw the hesitation in Chris' face. She shook her head at him, silently pleading with him not to take the bait.

"Let him go," Chris repeated, though his voice had lost its strength.

Lamia shrugged, tossing her now strawberry blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Very well." Turning to the other man, she lightly blew a red mist into his face causing him to glow before his eyes glazed over and head drooped. She waved a careless hand at him, but he shimmered out only to reappear in the same spot. Violet eyes darted to Chris. "What have you done, Young One?"

"Trapped you where you can't hurt anyone else," he said. "Where I can keep an eye on you until those babies are born."

Lamia started to float toward Chris, but Bianca cut her off. "Don't even think about it, Bitch. You lay a hand on him I will remove it permanently. Just because I can't kill you doesn't mean I won't maim you."

"Bianca," Chris directed, "take the kid someplace safe."

Whipping her head around, Bianca sharply questioned, "What? No. Not unless you come with me. I'm not leaving you alone with her."

"I know what I'm doing," Chris said. Under his breath, he muttered, "I think."

"Last time you said that you nearly died, and I did die," Bianca told him. "No. Not happening, Chris. Forget it. As long as you are here, I will be too."

Taking a deep breath, Chris crossed to her. Palming the side of her face, he locked eyes with her before steadily moving his mouth to hers. Unlike the unsure, timid peck they'd shared before, this was a real kiss. Deep, thorough and, for Bianca, wonderfully familiar in its passion and affection.

Her moment of joy was ruined the moment Chris pulled away and she saw the terrible resignation on his face. She knew what he was going to do. She knew, and she tried to stop him, but before she could open her mouth, could even move, she was engulfed in white lights.

Reappearing in the office of her gallery, Bianca screamed his name at the ceiling despite knowing he couldn't hear her. Feeling helpless and furious, she wiped her arm across her desk sending her computer, papers and random office supplies crashing to the floor. Laying her forehead on the desk, tears pricked the back of her eyes as she breathed, "Damn it."

"Um. . . where am I?"

Looking up, Bianca found the young man from the cavern standing in front of her desk looking highly confused. Shaking her head, she looked up to the ceiling but this time a different name fell from her lips. "Wyatt!"

A minute passed before the soft glow of orbs filled the space forming into the Twice Blessed. Upon fully materializing, Wyatt took note of the shrieking man in the corner and held his hands up in front of him. In a tone eerily similar to his father's he soothed, "Hey. Hi there. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe."

"What the fuck is going on?" the other man questioned, pressing himself into a corner. "I was at a bar with my friends two seconds ago. How the hell did I get here? Where am I? Who are you people? _What_ are you?"

Bianca rolled her eyes. "We don't have time for this. Memory dust him. Fast."

"Memory what me?" the man cried. "Hell no."

As the man made a break for the door, Wyatt orbed in front of him. Reaching into his inner coat pocket, The Twice Blessed pulled out a small brown bag. Looking incredibly apologetic, he opened the bag and tossed gold dust into the innocent's face. He calmly instructed, "You remember going to the bar with your friends. One of the drinks didn't set well, and you got sick and went home. You spent the rest of the evening in bed sleeping it off."

Bianca started patting down the man until she found his wallet. Pulling it out of his back pocket, she snatched his driver license, holding it out to Wyatt. "Hopefully, he kept his address up to date with the DMV. Orb him."

"Bianca, this is all really not the way I do things . . ."

"Chris is about to jump off a proverbial cliff, Wyatt," Bianca snapped. "We don't have time. Orb him."

Without another second of hesitation, Wyatt did as she bid just as she knew he would. One mention of Chris being in danger was all it ever took to get Wyatt to do anything. Even when evil Chris had been his Achilles heel. After the innocent was home safely, Wyatt fearfully questioned. "Okay, tell me everything. Now."

And she did. She explained all the research Chris had been doing without his family's knowledge. How she had helped him track down Lamia. What happened in the cave. She finished with how Chris was starting to remember his other life, becoming more and more like the reckless, brilliant, stubborn man she'd known. She finished with that part because she needed Wyatt to understand him. Needed him to know her Chris was a man whose desire to save his family trumped everything else. Including his own life.

That this time, the cost of saving his family - his children - would likely be his soul.

TBC . . .


	13. Into the Fire

Thank you so much to those giving encouragement - sise87, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, and Korzy Potterwell. It keeps my muse alive.

Warning: Graphic description of torture in this one. If you get squeamish skip the italic portion.

Chapter 13

Being in the cavern where stuff of the most twisted nightmares had for a month been the reality of his daily life, Chris couldn't stop remembering. Couldn't stop feeling every agonizing moment as though it were happening all over again. The rush of water running down his throat into his lungs. The feel of her fangs piercing the skin of his neck accompanied by the woozy feeling of blood loss. Leather biting off long chunks of his flesh. Worst of all was the memory of his complete submission. The day Christopher Halliwell had nearly died.

 _CRACK! The leather cord ripped across his shoulders, tearing a long strip of bloodied skin away. Chris fell onto his hands, biting his tongue to stop from crying out. The chains holding him clanged loudly against the ground and rubbed deeper into his already raw wrists. CRACK! The whip ran down the length of his spine, and he arched away with tears in his eyes and blood in his mouth as teeth tore into his tongue. CRACK! The same spot across his shoulders, cutting deeper into his body. This time he whimpered._

" _Have you had enough?" Lamia asked him sounding bored. "Will you behave now?"_

 _He growled, "Fuck you, Bitch."_

 _Lamia tsked. Her silky voice breathed against his ear, "We've been over this, Young One. Why do you insist on making me hurt you?"_

 _Chris knew what was coming. It'd happened five times already. Instinctively, he ran his tongue along the back of his mouth where so many of his teeth had gone missing. As much as it sent his jaw twanging with pain, he clenched it anyway, zipping his lips together tightly and shaking his head. Unfortunately, as it had never stopped her before, it didn't work now either._

 _The demoness' small but strong hand grabbed his lower jaw and squeezed hard, forcing his mouth open. Pliers sought out one of his back teeth. His tongue felt cold metal as the tool clamped down. A firm yank, and Chris' vision went black with floating lights as sharp pain shot all the way through his jaw to his ear. Blood filled his mouth with the taste of copper, which he choked on as it seeped down the back of his throat._

" _This grows tiring, Young One," Lamia softly scolded. Her hand brushed his bangs from his face, and she had the nerve to sweetly kiss his forehead. "We could be wonderful together if you would stop fighting me so. Even you have to admit our lovemaking has been incredible. It'd be so much more so if you were mentally present for it. I so wish I didn't have to bewitch you."_

 _In response, Chris spit blood stained saliva in her face. Breathing shallow and jerky, he returned, "I'd rather cut off my dick than have sex with you willingly. Never. Happening."_

 _Violet eyes flashed brightly with rage. Swiftly rising she stormed over to the table and returned a moment later with an athame, which she immediately positioned under his now dirt and blood crusted toga, pressing the edge against the recommended location. Staring into his eyes, she warned, "I already have what I need from you. Hurt my feelings like that again, and I may do as you ask."_

 _When he felt the tip of the dagger press hard enough to break skin, Chris winced and his heart developed a rapid arrhythmia. Suddenly, he couldn't seem to remember how to breathe._

" _Tell me you're sorry," she demanded, adding pressure to the dagger._

" _Oh God, I'm sorry," Chris obeyed, terrified she would follow through with the threat. His voice was unnaturally high as he begged, "Don't. I'm sorry. Please, don't. Please. I'm sorry, okay? Oh God, don't do this."_

 _Lamia removed the dagger and palmed the side of his face. "See? I can be reasonable. You merely have to treat me with respect."_

 _He realized her grip had loosened on the athame as she focused on touching him. Getting an idea he ducked his head, looking up through his bangs with a contrite expression. He told her, "I see that. I do. I'll be better." He wet his lips. "In fact, can I have a kiss?"_

 _The demoness' mouth turned up in a delighted smile. In answer, she slowly leaned to brush her lips against his. While his stomach curled at the contact, Chris tried not to focus on it. Instead, he lifted his chained hands to her face, returning the kiss with a zeal he hoped she thought was real. Peeking out of one eye, he saw her set the dagger on the floor so she could run her hands through his hair like she always did when they kissed. This was his chance. He had one shot._

 _Chris ran his hands down either side of her neck to her chest. Teasing her through the light fabric of the sundress she was wearing today, he simultaneously moved his mouth to her ear lightly sucking on the lobe. When she moaned, he knew he had her thoroughly distracted. He moved his hands down to the hem of her skirt as though intending to slip up it. Only while one hand traced figure eights on her inner thigh, the other was reaching for the dagger._

 _It seemed to happen all at once. The dagger was in his hand and on course to be buried hilt deep in her gut. Violet eyes snapped open. Her hands wrestled with his over the athame that had only nicked her side. With her supernatural strength, she overpowered him and as punishment rammed the knife down into his shoulder deep enough he felt the blade scratch his collarbone and cried out as he tipped onto his side._

 _Lamia kicked him hard in the ribs when she got to her feet, sending him toppling onto his back. Pretty face twisted into a terrifying expression, she spat, "You have left me no choice. Now, I break your wild spirit, Young One."_

 _Half delirious with pain, Chris was vaguely aware of her swishing out of the room. He could hear water running somewhere but couldn't place where. He'd been allowed to use the hot springs to get cleaned up a few times under her close monitoring, but they didn't sound like that. They were more uncontrolled splashes, while this sounded like a tub being filled._

 _Not even aware of her return, he winced as she jerked him to his knees by his hair. Hissed as fangs plunged into his neck. He could feel the blood rushing up through the holes and out into her mouth. Last time she'd bitten him, he'd blacked out she'd taken so much. He thought she might do it again as his vision grayed on the edges, and he grew terribly chilled and dizzy with blood loss._

 _It was sweet relief when the sucking stopped. Confusing when the cuffs then fell away. When he tried to get to all fours, he was kicked backwards again. His vision blacked out, and his head smacked the ground hard, sending the room tilting and spinning. A surge of nausea had him retching bile onto the floor. As soon as he was done being sick, he felt hands wrap around his ankles and dirt and rocks dug into the open wounds on his back as he was drug along the floor._

 _Jerked to his feet, his head lolled, eyes refusing to stay open. Whenever she drank his blood he got so cold and sleepy. On top of everything else she'd already done to him he was close to passing out. Well, until the dagger was unceremoniously yanked from his shoulder making him scream profanity. Blood bubbled out of the open space and down his chest, warm and slick._

 _Something cold and hard pressed against his back all the way down his legs. A tightness crossed over his chest making it hard to breathe. Blinking, trying to focus, he found himself strapped to a table. Wasn't the first time. She'd done this . . . well, he didn't know when. He'd lost track of time, but she'd done it before a few times. Once with the cutting and once with the bondage. He preferred the cutting._

 _Sharp squeaking made his ears twitch. Something heavy being moved across the cavern. He turned his head trying to see, but vertigo hit him hard, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut and focus on breathing in order to avoid puking again._

 _Without warning, the world tipped upside down and with a splash Chris found himself shoulder deep in ice water. Shocked by the cold, he was instantly alert. Instantly freezing. His whole body violently shivered, not enough blood circulating to regulate his core body temperature. Still, he wasn't scared. Pissed off at how cold it was but not scared._

 _Out of all the ways Lamia had chosen to torture him, Chris believed this would be the easiest to endure. It was just water. Freaking freezing water but just water. He grew up surfing, so he had zero fear of drowning. He'd wiped out in a wave enough times to experience choking on water, having to hold his breath till he could fight his way to the surface. It didn't faze him. Hell, he could hold his breath for nearly five minutes before it really started to burn._

 _Except, she kept him under a lot longer than five minutes. As his chest grew tighter, lungs aching with growing fire, alarm steadily grew. While he knew it was pointless, a waste of energy in fact, he couldn't stop his fight instinct from kicking in, and he began wriggling furiously against the straps, head thrashing under the water as he screamed bubbles._

 _Finally, Lamia pulled him up, and he gasped desperately for air. Tiny tremors ran all through him, and he was vaguely aware of the already bluish tint to his skin. He got exactly three gulps of air - was in the middle of the fourth - when with narrowed eyes she plunged him back under._

 _He swallowed a mouthful of water. Choking, bursts of bubbles floated in front of his face. He ran out of air almost immediately. Mortal panic set in as his chest clenched and intense fire filled his empty lungs. His thoughts turned to his grandmother. He'd only met her a few times, but he'd thought she was incredibly beautiful and kind, and it'd always filled him with sadness that she'd died so tragically. Now here he was about to follow her fate. Death by drowning. He was certain of it._

 _When a calm acceptance had finally made his mind heavy - or perhaps the lack of oxygen had deadened it - he was yanked out with a splash. Coughing up water, he felt it coming out everywhere. Running out of his ears. Pouring from his nose. It left the back of his throat raw and sore. Panting and wheezing and drinking in as much of the blessed air as he could, Chris didn't care about how violently he was shaking in the straps. How his teeth were chattering. He'd never appreciated air as much as he did right now._

 _Then Lamia dunked him again, and it started all over. Each time he'd finally found peace with inevitable death, she intuitively seemed to know and lifted him from the large basin. During the third or fourth time, he'd known the air she granted was a temporary tease and in hysterics had lowered his head and actually tried to chew through the black restraints. She'd slapped him to get him to stop then lowered him back into the ice water._

 _It went on and on until he started hoping this was the time she'd let him go. Let him blackout from lack of oxygen and join his Grandma Patty, Grams and Aunt Prue. Wyatt would be upset if he died, but he'd get over it just like their mom and Aunt Phoebe got over Prue's passing. He just wanted this to stop. He'd do anything to get it to stop._

 _The last time Lamia pulled him up, she undid the straps and let him fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. The toga was clinging to his skin, which was wrinkled and horribly blue. Hair matted to his face as teeth loudly clacked together. He couldn't stop violently jerking as hard shivers ran up and down his spine. Hands fisting dry ground, Chris hung his head as hard realization overcame him. He wished he would've drowned. Exhausted, starving, every inch of him hurting inside and out, he had no fight left._

 _Lamia kneeled down in front of him. "You have the power to end your torment, Young One," she softly soothed, running her hands through his sopping wet hair. "You know what you need to do."_

 _Void green eyes looked up at her too lost to fully comprehend anything._

" _I'll make it plain," she said. "If you let me feed on you right this moment without my needing to bewitch you, I shall fetch you dry clothes - clothes of your liking as you'll be my willing partner instead of a slave. We'll have that chinese soup you like to warm your insides. What do you say?"_

 _Squeezing his eyes shut in shame, Chris nodded agreement._

 _When the demoness gently laid him on his back and sidled up next to him, he swallowed his disgust down with the air he'd lacked for so long. As her mouth and hands roamed all over him, he stared blankly up at the ceiling. While his body reacted to her every touch and movement, his mind was numb not with her spell but his own self-preservation. As she rode him to climax, a single tear slid down the side of his face._

 _All the little cracks in his soul she'd created shattered in this moment. They spidered out to consume him. The pieces would never fit together the same way again. Part of Christopher Halliwell had died in this moment._

Face to face with the demoness who had wrecked him, Chris realized three things. Firstly, deep in his soul, a soul she had permanently tarnished, he hated Lamia beyond description. Every part of him wanted to make her pay. Wanted to telekinetically rip off her limbs and set the pieces on fire. Blast her into oblivion. Only the second realization prevented it.

There was a noticeable bump in her abdomen. One he couldn't stop staring at it in a mix of horror and sorrow. Proof positive she was pregnant. Matthew and Victoria were real, and god help him, he couldn't kill them. Couldn't let anyone else kill them either. He wished to hell he could, but he knew without a doubt, it would further destroy his soul to have their deaths in anyway on his hands.

The last realization, the one he planned to work to his advantage, was the fact Lamia really believed she was in love with him. While she'd always been insane, her psychosis had twisted with pregnancy making him out to be her beloved - someone she didn't want to hurt anymore. While she was pretending to be Bianca, she could have recaptured him easily. Bewitched him back into her bed, but she hadn't. In fact, she'd been oddly respectful after his panic at their kiss. Seemed genuinely upset by his pain. It meant he could manipulate her. For once, he had all the power.

"I've missed you, Young One," she purred.

His jaw twitched at her pet name for him. "It's Chris."

She looked genuinely contrite. "Of course. We are equals now. The father of my children deserves the respect of his born name. Forgive me."

Mentally, he barked a dark laugh at the very idea. Snowballs in hell and all that. Outloud he nodded and folded his arms over his chest. Needing to give her false hope, he was impressed with himself when he kept his face neutral. Kept his voice even and unaffected. "I came here to make a deal."

"A familiar proposition," she said, floating closer to him. "Didn't work out well for me last time."

Skin crawling at her proximity, bitterness seeped in as he returned, "Me either."

Lamia's face fell, violet eyes shining softly. "I didn't understand. My soul was gone, and I could feel nothing over what I did to you. My heart slowly returns now, and I carry the weight of my crimes heavily. None more so than what I did to you, Young - _Chris_. You must know I will never hurt you in such a way again. I love you deeply."

And if that wasn't the most disturbing thing he'd ever heard. Chris took a breath to stamp down the anger and illness her words evoked. Struggling to keep calm - keep up the act - he nodded. "I know. I believe you."

The demoness smiled brightly. "Then forgiveness can exist. We can be happy the three of us. I knew it. I knew you were my fated mate. That you would understand it was the curse which caused me to be so awful. I will be a good mate to you. An excellent mother to our children."

Chris' stomach lurched, but he somehow kept his face from showing it.

"We just need to be rid of that treacherous bird," Lamia went on. "I know you are fond of her, but she, of her own will, betrays you. Does not trust in you or understand you like I do. It pains me to see you fall for such a faithless, filthy little witch."

Her jealousy was going to be a problem. One he should have considered before kissing Bianca goodbye. He just needed Bianca to know he was going to be okay. That he knew what he was doing. The last thing he needed was her to go running to Wyatt or another member of his family and ruining his one chance at setting up Lamia.

"Do you love her?" Lamia asked, looking almost afraid of his answer.

"No," he lied. "She's useful. Phoenix have many contacts, and I needed her help to find you."

Violet eyes danced in delight. "Using her. Clever. I always appreciated your mind. Brilliant and devious when need be."

She had no fucking clue. Outloud he returned, "Anyway, now that I've found you I don't have need of her. If you want her gone, so be it. All that matters to me are the babies you're carrying."

Something deep in his core hurt saying that, but it wasn't entirely untrue. He was making this play to save their lives. To save whatever humanity he'd passed on to them.

"Me as well," she cooed, her hands going to the bump. She stroked the area, a content look forming. "They need sustenance, though. You've gone and orbed away my food." Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the massive damage for the first time. "Destroyed our home too? Why? If you understand . . .?"

Chris bit his tongue to stop the retort he wanted to give. Swallowing his emotions, he evenly replied, "Bad memories. Even you have to admit you put me through a lot until I finally surrendered to you."

Violet eyes shimmered with moisture. "So many regrets, Beloved. I wish I had not hurt you so. I love you, and all I wish for in this world is your love in return." She glanced around the cavern with a crestfallen expression. "It seems hopeless in the face of such rage."

Digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand, he chanted, "May the object of objection become but a dream as I cause the scene to be unseen."

In a swirl of light everything he'd destroyed righted itself and became whole. Watching it happen was hard for Chris. Seeing everything representing the worst days of his life being put back into pristine condition felt like condoning it somehow. Perhaps allowing it to happen to someone else. No. That's partially why he was here. She wouldn't hurt anyone else. Not on his watch.

"Thank you," Lamia breathed, suddenly standing directly in front of him, so close her breath kissed his skin. She was staring at his mouth, inching hers toward it.

Panic surged and Chris took a step back, shaking his head. "No." Off her questioning look, he forced himself to correct, "Not yet. You need to prove to me you've changed first. Then we'll be together again." Bile rose up the back of his throat. He swallowed it, tightly finishing, "The family you've always wanted."

She closed her eyes as though his words were literally pouring over her like soothing water. Smiling dreamily she agreed, "Oh, yes. Of course. I will prove myself." She opened her eyes, fixing them on him. "Anything to be with my beloved again."

If things had been different, if she hadn't done the unspeakable to him repeatedly, Chris might have pitied her in this moment. Might have seen her desperation and insanity as cause to find her pathetic. He didn't. Her obsession scared the hell out of him because he knew she would do anything to get him back. He had to tread carefully.

Pretending to consider his demands, Chris turned away from her, walking toward the other side of the cavern. He needed space between them before his anxiety took control. Being this close to her again was harder than he'd thought it would be. Even without touching she made his skin crawl, made him feel terrified and powerless. He couldn't afford it. Too much was at stake.

"Chris?" she softly prodded. "Beloved, tell me what you need."

Alcohol was his first thought. Copious amounts of alcohol. "I need time firstly. My family is not going to accept our relationship easily. I have to work on them slowly, so they don't try to hurt your or . . ." God he didn't want to say it. It physically hurt his soul to say it. He choked out, ". . . our children."

He glanced over his shoulder to find her looking at him like a dog waiting at the door for their master. As though wagging a tail, she nodded agreement. "Of course. Yes. These children deserve the protection and power of their Warren lineage."

"Secondly," Chris went on, "no feeding on people."

Tilting her head she challenged, "But we will starve. Until the curse is fully lifted I have no choice. Surely you must understand that. I don't wish to do so, especially not with anyone but you, but I must."

Chris reached into his pocket, pulling out a vial and holding it between his thumb and pointer finger. "No, you don't. This is a special potion of my own design. I've blessed it with my blood, so Hera's magic won't have any effect on it. It's one step away from an alchemist's essence - no consciousness but still the energy of a spirit. I mixed it with powerful aphrodisiacs, so it'll give you the same hit as though you'd fed off a real person. Your incentive for not feeding on anyone is I'll need to bring you one every week. It'll be our time to get to know one another again."

"Such a clever witch," she praised. "For you, I promise I will be good. I look forward to convincing you I've changed and rekindling our passions." She extended her hand to take the potion from him. As he passed it to her, her palm kissed his fingertips, and she sighed as though he'd kissed her deeply.

It took everything he had not to shudder.

Lamia poured the potion down her throat and instantly glowed a brilliant white. Her skin and hair took on a healthier sheen, her violet eyes brightening again as well. She smiled as she looked down at the now empty bottle. Patting her abdomen she remarked, "Daddy is truly brilliant. He will take such care of us, Little Ones."

Chris was positive he was going to vomit and/or start an earthquake if he didn't get out of here soon. When the demoness yawned, he knew his secret ingredient was kicking in and commented, "You should take a nice hot bath then off to bed. It's like you've had a very large meal - bound to make you sleepy."

Eyelids growing heavy she nodded and started toward the hot springs, pausing after a few steps. Turning around she said, "To seal our new deal, you returning to me in exchange for my good behavior, may I have a kiss goodbye?"

Fuck off. It was right on the tip of his tongue. His blood burned with the urge to let the words loose. He didn't. Instead, he dug his nails hard enough into his palms they broke skin. Stomach roiling, anxiety clenching his chest, he crossed the distance between them. Looking into the violet eyes of the person he mosted hated in existence, he forced himself to lower his head and lightly brush his lips over hers.

It lasted only a second before he pulled away, but the act made him feel exactly like he had in the memory - soaked to the bone with cold. Numbly broken. Sick. Full of a self-loathing he could never wash off. Burning hatred for her. Acceptance this was the only way, and the resulting loss of bits of his soul at the admittance of it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chris caught the tail end of an orb trail. Panicked she would see it, he took her hands in his and lightly pulled her to the threshold of the cavern toward the passage leading to the hot springs. Forcing a soft smile, he told her, "Go. I'll be back in a week. You have my word."

She hummed contentment, a fingertip tracing her lips. "I love you, Chris. I will wait for you always."

Wyatt was standing behind Lamia with Excalibur. Bianca was at his side. Chris telekinetically shoved them backwards behind the demoness' back. To Lamia he said, "Until then remember your promise to me. Only if you're truly good can we be together."

"I promise."

As the demoness sashayed down the hallway looking as though floating on air, Chris put a hand to his mouth trying very hard not to vomit. He felt shaky with disgust, and if he was being honest, pure terror. This could have gone very, very badly. Almost had because of the two idiots orbing into the middle of his business. At the thought, his illness and anxiety shifted to anger.

Marching into the cavern, Chris almost ran smack into Wyatt, who had a darkly serious expression he seldom wore. The Twice Blessed was completely focused down the corridor where Lamia had disappeared, apparently looking to chop her into pieces.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Chris hissed.

"What are we doing?" Wyatt challenged. "What the _hell_ are you doing?" Chris knew his brother was truly angry by the use of even a small curse word. "Have you lost your mind? After everything that demon did you, you go and decide to not only seek her out but then kiss her? Tell me you're bewitched again; otherwise, I swear I will lock you up and throw away the keys."

Without warning, Chris grabbed his brother's arm and orbed them back to their apartment. Only when they were safely away from Lamia's ears did he bitingly return, "I know what I'm doing, Wyatt. I don't need big brother rushing in to save me. In fact, you damn near ruined everything."

Bianca shimmered in a second later, brown eyes glaring hotly into the side of his head. "You're trying to manipulate her, aren't you? Damn it, Chris, it's too dangerous. If she finds out you're insincere, she will make your last captivity look like a beach vacation."

Edging her a harsh look he spat, "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"You're not fully healed from what she's done," Bianca reasoned. "One panic attack or moment of hesitation, and she could kill you or worse. I can't risk losing you. Not again."

"Kit," Wyatt softly said, "you are scary smart and an incredibly powerful witch. If this were any other demon, I wouldn't bat an eye about you going after them alone. Only Lamia . . . she's not just some random demon. She'll never be just some random demon to you. Can you really blame us for being overprotective after all she's done to you?"

Chris closed his eyes, turning his head away. Anger slowly fading, he quietly argued, "I need to do this. I need to prove to myself I can do this." Opening his eyes he moved them between the other two pleading, "Please, let me handle this my way. It's the only way to keep an eye on her, so she doesn't take those kids and disappear."

"You warded the cavern," Bianca pointed out. "She can't go anywhere, so why go back?"

"Trapping her means she can't feed," Chris explained. "I have to deliver a special potion to make sure the babies stay healthy. It'll also help them develop in the light. Feeding springs from a dark curse, and I don't know how it may affect their magic. This way, they're getting their fix from my magic instead."

Wyatt let out a heavy breath. "You've made your decision haven't you?"

Chris nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. I have." Dropping his gaze to the carpet, he said, "They're part of me. Whether I like it or not. Once they're born I will vanquish Lamia, which means I'm all they'll have. I can't abandon them."

"You're risking an awful lot," Bianca warned. "And I don't just mean your plan for Lamia."

"I know," Chris breathed.

Wyatt remarked, "You realize what this means, right? While some members of our family are pretty self absorbed, even they would notice two newborns."

"I can't think about that right now," Chris admitted. "For now, I just need you two to support me on this. Let me handle all of it my way. Right or wrong. Please."

His older brother nodded, giving a thin smile. "I will try, but you're always going to be my kid brother. Protecting you is sort of programmed into my DNA."

"I'm glad you have my back, Wy," Chris said, "just let me take the lead. It's all I'm asking."

"You've got it."

Bianca was chewing on her bottom lip, eyes focused somewhere on the bottom of the wall. She didn't say anything for a long while, and Chris knew she was running through all kinds of worst case scenarios. When her brown eyes finally flicked over to his face, they were so deep with love and concern he could've happily drowned in them. "Whatever you need."

For the first time in months, Chris felt in control. Like he had a say in his own life again. It wasn't what he'd expected. Instead of a sense of empowerment, he felt heavy with dread. He had chosen his path, but it wasn't one he really wanted to take. He knew it would forever change him, but whether the change was for better or worse he couldn't say. Only time would tell.

TBC . . .


	14. Run Before You Can Walk

Sorry for the delay in updating/lack of personal responses to comments. Sick kid + me sick = Rough couple weeks. I did really appreciate all the reviews, and they are literally the only thing keeping me going on this story right now. So thank you to sise87, Korzy potterwell, and Naruto Loves FemKyuubi.

Be forewarned sexual scene in this one.

Chapter 14

Chris was actually happy. Perched on the armrest of Bianca's sofa watching her devour a fourth piece of pizza, he felt normal for the first time in longer than he could remember. It was Friday night, and he was spending it eating pizza and watching a movie with his beautiful, amazing girlfriend. A woman he was falling in love with more every week.

He and Bianca had gone on their first date two months ago, and it had been nearly perfect. Kicking his brother out of their apartment, Chris had prepared sage and brown butter sauce squash ravioli with fresh baked bread. He'd even splurged for a bottle of fancy white wine he knew Bianca loved. They spent the whole evening talking and laughing as if they'd done this a thousand times before and were perfectly in sync. When he'd kissed her goodnight, he didn't feel even a tinge of anxiety.

While they were taking things snail pace slow in the physical department, Chris was proud of how far he'd come. They'd even managed a few make out sessions without him having any flashes of memory. Granted it was about as risque as a couple of teenagers in the back of a movie theatre, but it was a start. It gave him hope he really was healing.

At the moment, Bianca was so completely transfixed by the sappy romance she hadn't noticed his staring. He smiled as a telling shine formed in her eyes as the lovers were forced to part ways. A badass former assassin, but a chick-flick could make her cry. She was full of wonderful contradictions like that.

Finally catching his amused expression, she wiped her eyes and shot him a frustrated look. "What?" She gestured to her television with the slice of pizza still in hand. "It's sad. They love each other, but they can't be together. No matter how hard they try things keep getting in the way. It's terrible. People who love each other like that should get to be together."

"It's not real," Chris reminded her. "They don't actually exist."

Bianca tossed the pizza down on her plate, which she'd set on the coffee table earlier. Wiping her hands on a paper towel, she crumpled it into a tight ball then threw it on the table too. She turned her head away from him. Under her breath she murmured, "They sort of do."

Realization hit like a slap. His heart froze with a stab of fear, and his smile vanished as his mouth fell open. No words wanted to come out. He had to swallow hard before he could breathe enough to ask, "Are you breaking up with me?"

Her head whipped around to stare at him in confused shock. "What?"

"You seem really affected by this movie," Chris explained, gesturing at it. "About how these fictional people love each other but can't be together. I figure maybe it's because you can relate."

Brown eyes dropped to the floor. Her voice was unbearably soft as she admitted, "I can."

Chris' heart dropped into his stomach. Not able to keep looking at her without it hurting, he shifted his gaze to the coffee table. He folded his arms. "Okay, so I, uh, I guess I'll just go then?" He nodded to himself. "Right."

He'd started to orb out when her voice stopped him. "Chris, no." When he reformed, she was looking at him with a crumpled expression that killed him a little. She explained, "I am not breaking up with you. I want to be with you and only you. It's just . . ."

"Just . . .?"

She flushed, ducking her head as though ashamed.

Slipping off the arm and onto the sofa next to her, he tried to catch her eyes. "Bianca, hey, come on. You can tell me anything. What's going on? Is this about the twins? Did you change your mind?"

"No," she refuted. "I promised I would support whatever decision you made. I'm scared for you, especially since you have to go down there with that psycho every week, but I understand why you're doing it."

"It's going really well," he reassured her. "I have all the control, and people are kept safe from that monster. Besides, I think my potion is really helping the twins. This is going to sound crazy but this week when I was down there I could sense them, and it was like there wasn't anything demonic about them. If I didn't know better, I would've sworn they were all good magic."

Bianca smiled softly. "You sound almost proud."

"It's more about my potion," Chris admitted. "Does that make me terrible? It probably does. I mean, I don't have anything against these kids, but I don't feel anything for them either. Honestly, it's easier just to think of them as random innocents I'm trying to save."

"Considering the circumstances," Bianca qualified, "it's better than most could probably manage. Speaking of which, how has your family taken the news?"

He gave her an irritated glare. "You know I haven't told them."

She held her hands up in surrender. "Don't get mad at me. You know you're running out of time to prepare them. Lamia is due in only a couple of months. Twins are prone to coming early. Do you really want your family to find out you're a father by you randomly showing up with newborns?"

Pulling a face, he requested, "Could you not use that term?"

"Newborns?"

He leveled a look at her. "You know which one. It freaks me out."

"You better get used to it," Bianca countered. "It's going to be a fact of your life very soon. If you can't handle the title, how are you going to handle actually being one?"

"Awkwardly."

She rolled her eyes through a smile, drawing out his name.

"I need my family's help," he admitted. "I know that. I do. It's just hard. I'm not on speaking terms with my aunts. My mom and I are only starting to get along for the first time in my entire life, and I honestly don't know how she's going to react. Mel doesn't even know what happened, and the idea of telling her . . ." He sighed. "It sucks. My little sister will never look at me the same again."

"She adores you," Bianca argued. "She's going to still adore you. Still think you are the funniest, smartest, strongest person on the planet. You're her hero, Chris, and this won't change that. I know it."

He carded a hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. "Yeah maybe. In any case, she's meeting me in my office at Magic School Monday before we go to lunch, and I was thinking maybe I'd tell her then."

"And the others?" Bianca prompted.

"Wyatt suggested a family dinner," Chris replied. "Figured it'd be easier on me to tell everyone at once. Get it done and over in one shot. Said he'd be there for moral support."

She nodded. "I see the allure of that. Do you want me to come?"

"Depends," Chris hedged, "are you going to tell me what's wrong? Because as clever as your little diversion tactic was I didn't forget that something about our relationship is bothering you enough the stupid movie made you cry."

"I'm fine."

Chris rolled his eyes. "And do I ever hate that phrase. Try again."

"It's selfish," Bianca said, rising from the couch and grabbing her plate. "And not important."

As she headed into the kitchen, Chris jumped up from the couch and followed her. "No, you don't get to do that. If whatever it is upsets you this much, it's important."

Tossing her garbage into the bin, she shook her head. "It's nothing. Drop it."

"Not happening," he shot back, leaning against the island.

"Chris, I don't want to say."

"Too bad."

"Chris, please, it's-"

"Damn it, Bianca, would you just tell me already?"

In a frustrated burst, she snapped, "It's sex." She winced as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

Out of all the things he thought she might say that had not been one of them. It took a minute for his brain to fully register the words, leaving him to blink dumbly at her. When it finally sunk in, he exhaled, "Oh."

Bianca's face was plastered with guilt. He got the impression if she could have melted into the floor she would've. Rubbing one arm and refusing to look at him, she mumbled, "I told you it was stupid and selfish."

"You want to have sex," Chris numbly commented.

The woman practically shrunk in on herself, biting her bottom lip. Eyes starting to shine again, she admitted, "Yes. I'm sorry. I know you're not ready. I understand that. It's just while our first date was only months ago for you, I have years worth of being together in my head. I remember what it's like to make love to you, and I miss it. And for a moment tonight I let self-pity rule me, but I'm fine. Honestly."

While she spoke, he looked into her big dark eyes and saw the depth of love in them. He knew she'd been holding back. Trying to let him catch up, but in this moment, it was all laid bare, and the intensity was staggering. She didn't look at him like he was her boyfriend. She saw him as the man she wanted to marry. Her soulmate. The realization made his heart thump hard while his mind raced to figure out what he thought and felt about it.

He loved Bianca. There was no question about it. Not simply because of the dreams and memories from the other life, but also, from their time together in this one. She'd been there during the darkest time of his life. Helped put the pieces of his shattered soul back together. Had been patient and understanding and supportive. She was certainly everything he'd ever wanted in a partner. Smart, strong-willed, sassy, kind, beautiful and a fellow witch. Being together was easy. So, yes, he loved her. It wasn't nearly as strong as her love for him, but he thought it probably would be someday.

Could he give her what she wanted though?

His gaze dropped to her mouth. Kissing those soft, coral lips was getting easier all the time. When they kissed, he felt safe. She always let him take the lead, and the embraces were always slow and gentle, full of affection instead of dominance.

Raking his eyes over her, he could safely say he was definitely turned on by her. While dressed simply in a white sweatshirt and jeans, she still had a distinct sex appeal. The v-neck on her top revealed a delicate collarbone and the perfect hint of cleavage. The jeans emphasized her lean but curvy figure. Taking it all in, his stomach tightened, warmth spreading low.

"Chris?" she questioned, frowning lightly.

Crossing the space between them in only a few long strides, he pulled her into his arms kissing her deeply. He felt her stiffen in surprise before melting into the embrace, her mouth moving in tandem with his. Lightly sucking on her lower lip before returning to tease her tongue with his, he smiled through the kiss as she let out a contented little hum.

The sound of her pleasure spurned him on, and he lifted her up onto the counter. Hands running up her sides making her shudder, he moved his mouth to her neck leaving warm kisses all the way up it. Sliding his hands to her lower back, he pulled her forward so he was between her legs and whispered in her ear, "I love you."

She rewarded him with a smile so radiant with joy he silently vowed then and there to do whatever it took to make her happy. Resting her hands on either side of his neck, she locked eyes with him and quietly returned, "I love you too."

Their mouths met again, tongues and lips moving with a more fevered, passionate pace after the declarations. Hands sliding up her back, pulling her as close to him as possible, he moved his mouth to her ear, lightly sucking the lobe before breathily questioning, "Bedroom?"

A flash of hesitation lit her eyes. She opened her mouth only to close it a second later.

He realized she didn't think he could do this. Thought he was too damaged to go through with it. It pissed him off. He was a man. A young, healthy man. A man who wanted to have sex with the woman he loved. Show her how passionate he was about her. He was not broken. If he wanted to have sex, he could and would. He'd just have to prove it.

Without warning, he moved his hands under her backside and lifted her into his arms. When she opened her mouth to say something, he silenced her by slipping his tongue deep inside it. Keeping up the heated kiss, he carried her to the bedroom, kicking open the door with his foot.

Reaching the bed he laid her on her back, positioning himself above her. He pulled off his hooded sweatshirt, casting it aside before returning his mouth to hers. Tangling his hands in her silky hair, he whispered her name as her hands went up under his t-shirt to caress his abs and lightly rake over his chest. He closed his eyes and exhaled a quiet moan as she laid gentle kisses on the sensitive spot of his throat. So caught up in the soft waves of pleasure, he barely noticed when she slid his shirt over his head to start kissing his chest.

The natural heat of want was quickly spreading, and in response, Chris tugged off her sweater. His breath caught at the sight of her. She was wearing a plain white bra, which set off her olive skin. The simplicity of the garment along with the sleek, smoothness of her body turned him on faster than anything ever had before. He lightly ran the back of his hand down her breast and side resting it on her hip. Eyes fixed on hers he murmured, "You are so beautiful."

God help him, she gave him that smile again, and his heart swelled almost painfully. She quietly teased, "You're not so bad yourself, you know."

He smiled back at her, his hands slowly sliding up her stomach making her muscles tighten at his touch. Slipping around to her back, he undid her bra and slid it free, dropping it to the floor with their shirts. Taking a moment to appreciate the newly revealed flesh, he moved his eyes up to hers, saw the love and lust in them, and dropped his mouth to kiss the inside of one of her breasts, moving tantalizingly slowly toward his real target. When he took a nipple gently between his lips, he instinctively knew to lightly tease the tip with his tongue in a circle. How it drove her mad.

Bianca threw her head back in response, moaning his name. Her hands sought out his shoulders, finger tips digging into his muscle in time to her every jerk and whine of pleasure. When he snuck a peak up at her face, her eyes were closed and lips were parted in the most alluring way.

Keeping his eyes on her, enjoying the look of pure bliss on her face, he moved his mouth lower. Trailing softly down her stomach to the waist of her jeans. Using one hand to keep teasing her breast, the other undid the button of her jeans and lowered the zipper. When she inhaled in anticipation, he smiled and tugged off her pants.

At the sight of simple, white cotton panties, Chris felt a familiar throbbing. He glanced up at her face and couldn't resist kissing her again. Knowing from memories of another life how she responded to a light touch, he used a hand to tease her through the light fabric of her panties until she was wiggling under him, half-whining his name in a way that made his own need more intense. Only then did he slide a hand underneath the fabric. Hummed in pleasured at the moist heat waiting there.

As he worked her clit with his fingers, he watched Bianca's face. Saw her mouth open and eyes screw shut as she threw back her head. Reveled in every pleasure filled gasp. Eventually closed his eyes as she started grinding up against him, hips begging him to go deeper, harder, faster. He obliged and moved his mouth to her chest, adding to the waves hitting her until she came with series of 'oh my god's.

"Chris is fine," he teased, earning a light slap on the arm.

"You did not know how to do that with your fingers last time," Bianca informed him. "Holy hell."

Chris didn't want to say where he'd learned it. Didn't want to think about it. Only it popped in his head anyway, and his playful mood turned dark. He didn't want to surrender to it. Not this time. Not when he was so close to getting his life back. So he shrugged and weakly smiled.

Bianca traced a featherlight fingernail lightly up and down his spine making him shiver, which in turn made her softly smile. She lightly cupped his face bringing his mouth to hers. When they parted, she whispered, "Lay on your back. My turn to treat you a little."

Rolling over, Chris tensed as she straddled his waist. A flash of memory. Spirit broken on the floor of a cave with Lamia straddling him. As Bianca started kissing her way down his body, Chris didn't feel her love or tender touch. It was the demoness' hands and lips all over his skin as he lay trapped in his own mind unable to move. Panic was quickly surging, and his breathing grew shaky and fast.

Bianca thought it was a response to her mouth leaving a warm line along his waist as she unfastened his jeans and pulled down the zipper. There was no way she could know when he squeezed his eyes shut at the sound it wasn't in anticipation. When she slipped a hand inside his jeans to tease his inner thigh, and he fisted the blanket she didn't see it, too busy kissing his abs. It wasn't until her hand slid under his briefs to touch him, and he cried 'no' that she realized something was very wrong, but by then, she was already flying through the air. She shimmered out to avoid crashing into the wall.

Violently shaking, Chris curled on himself, hands pulling at his hair. All he could picture was Lamia on top of him, riding him as he lay on the cold ground devastated. All he could feel was Lamia's hands on him. The intense violation. The helplessness. The shame. His skin was crawling, and he felt sick. He couldn't breathe.

"Chris?"

Bianca's voice. Soft and worried. It pulled him back to the moment, and he glanced up to find her standing at the edge of the bed, and the way she was looking at him ruined him. Squeezing his eyes shut, he growled, "Fuck." He orbed away to the sound of her calling his name.

Reappearing on his own bed, Chris buried his face in his hands screaming into them. His bedside lamp flew off into the wall smashing to pieces. The table itself toppled to the ground next. Looking up, he whipped out a hand to send the pictures and knick-knacks on his dresser soaring into the wall. Anything not bolted down became victim to his emotional whirlwind.

"Kit?"

Chris turned to his door to find his brother poking his head in, taking in the destruction. He snapped, "Get the fuck out of my room, Wyatt."

"I thought there might be a demon," the older man quietly explained, brown eyes soft as he regarded his sibling.

"Clearly there's not," Chris retorted. "Now get the hell out."

Wyatt nodded and went to close the door but paused. A torn expression formed on his face. After a beat, he commented, "If you want to talk about whatever it is that happened tonight, I'm here. You know I would never judge. I love you, Kit, and I'm willing to help anyway I can."

The back of Chris' eyes pricked, so he squeezed them shut. "If you want to help, leave me alone."

There was the sound of a heavy sigh then the door clicking shut. Footsteps. The couch cushion squeaked. A woman's quiet voice questioning if everything was okay. Wyatt mumbling something in return. The television turning back on.

Chris groaned rubbing his eyes with two fingers. He'd forgotten Wyatt had a date tonight. He wasn't supposed to be here. His brother had all but put his life on hold since Chris was captured by Lamia. Tonight was the first time Wyatt was getting back to his usual dating routine, and considering how good his brother was with women, she'd be spending the night.

Taking a few steadying breaths, he zipped up his pants and slid off the bed, navigating the chaos on his floor to find a long sleeved shirt amongst the piles of his belongings he'd sent scattering. Tossing it on, he could only think of one place to go.

Orbing into the conservatory of the manor, he found his parents sitting on the white wicker loveseat playing scrabble and drinking wine. His mother was laughing, a finger pointed at his father in victory about something. They looked happy. He thought about leaving before he ruined it, but his father looked up and spotted him.

"Chris, hey," Leo greeted, a big smile forming. "Well, this is a nice surprise."

Piper's face lit up too, and for so long, it would have been all Chris wanted in the world to see her look at him like that. Only it seemed his mother was starting to really get to know him because she instantly picked up that something was wrong and the smile vanished. She softly questioned, "Chris? Sweetie, is everything okay?"

Ignoring her question, he shoved his hands in his pockets and responded, "Wyatt has someone over, and I don't want to be in the way. Is it cool if I hang out here for a while?"

"Absolutely," his father enthusiastically declared. "The manor will always be your home, and we will always be thrilled to spend time with you."

Piper tilted her head, a probing look in her brown eyes. "No big date yourself tonight?" She gently but purposefully added, "I would've thought you'd be with Bianca. You two have been practically inseparable."

Chris ducked his head. "Um, we sort of ended it early."

"I see," his mother drew out. Trying to catch his eyes, she asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

A strange look passed over his mother's face, which he didn't know quite how to interpret. Not disappointment exactly. Acceptance mixed with sadness maybe. It didn't last long enough for him to be sure as she put on a weak smile to cover it. Gesturing at the board, she asked, "Want to play? I could use some real competition."

"Hey, now," Leo remarked, affronted.

"Honey, I love you," Piper returned, "but I'm up three games to nothing."

"I haven't been pulling good letters," he defended with a slight pout.

His mother hummed her disbelief. She shot a smirk to Chris. "It's the letters fault."

Chris smiled and pulled the wicker chair closer to the table, plopping down into it. He gestured to his father to hand over his pieces. When he had them, he analyzed the letters with a light frown, lips in a thin line. After half a minute, he started putting down pieces. "Zymurgy for . . . seventy-five big ones, Mom."

"That is so not a word," Piper contended.

"Is that an official challenge?" he asked.

She wrinkled her nose. "No. Knowing you it's some crazy science word. It's how you always used to win."

They had never actually played scrabble together in this lifetime, but the remark didn't bother him for once. Perhaps because he could remember many nights spent in the manor in the past in friendly competition. She would put Wyatt to bed, reheat whatever she'd made for supper and force it on him then out would come the board. It had started after Bianca died and her sisters had moved out. They were both lonely.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed. "Though, you always used to cheat and use names of demons. Or get me tipsy and try to convince me to talk about the future."

His mother waved a finger at him. "Almost got you a few times too."

"Proud of yourself about that, huh?" he said, shaking his head at her.

His father's mouth fell open. "Chris, do you remember your other life now?"

"Bits and pieces. Tends to just come out randomly."

"How are you handling that?" Leo asked, face lining with worry.

"Sort of the least of my problems," Chris replied. He wet his lips, lowering his eyes to the table. "Which is part of the reason I came. I need a favor."

Piper's eyebrows shot up, but she didn't say aloud whatever surprised thought had popped in her head. Instead, Leo was the one to agree without even knowing what it was.

Chris swallowed the rising anxiety and pushed onward. "I need you to host a dinner next Saturday. I was thinking maybe around six? Just Me, Wyatt, Mel, you guys and the aunts. It's really important."

Leo frowned. "Buddy, what's this about?"

Piper put her hand on his arm, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter, Leo. Our son needs us to do something, so we're going to do it. No questions asked." She fixed her eyes on Chris'. "I'll take care of everything. Don't worry."

There was a strength in her eyes, a certainty, Chris found unbelievably comforting. He gave her a half smile. "Thanks, Mom."

His phone went off, vibrating in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the caller ID. Bianca. He winced. Hitting ignore, he shoved the phone back in his pocket. When he saw his parents both looking at him in question, he answered sadly, "Just someone I used to know." He gestured at the board. "New game?"

As his mother set to work resetting the board and his father started handing out pieces, Chris' thoughts drifted. Bianca wasn't in the future. Not because she couldn't handle being with him. No. She really loved him. Was willing to raise the twins with him even though it pained her they weren't hers, and she thought it was a bad idea. Bianca wasn't in the future because, as it turned out, he couldn't handle being with her. After what happened tonight, he couldn't face her again.

Turned out the couple in the movie was real after all. He and Bianca loved each other but were never meant to be.

TBC . . .


	15. Clear the Air

Thank you to Naruto Loves Femkyuubi and sise87 for taking the time to review. I love hearing your thoughts. Korzy potterwell, I think that may have been the best compliment anyone has ever given me. I do actually have an original story in the works. Wasn't confident I'd ever do anything with it, but who knows? Maybe I'll try to get it published when it's done :)

Chapter 15

The clock read twelve thirty-six. Six minutes late. Melinda was six minutes late for the most difficult conversation Chris was likely to ever have in his life. Each minute he was sitting at his desk, staring at the clock was agonizing. His hands were soaked in sweat and his stomach was knotted tight enough he didn't think he'd ever be able to eat anything ever again. Why did she have to be late today? He wanted to get this over with and his normally super punctual sister was late.

When his phone vibrated and clattered loudly on his desk, he jumped. Roughly yanking it up, he glanced at the screen to find yet another text message. After calling half a dozen times with no answer, Bianca had now started texting him. Each message pleading with him to talk to her. Telling him it was okay. She loved him. Please, don't push her away. Each one breaking his heart while making him feel even more pathetic.

Not able to resist seeing what she'd written this time, he pulled open the message. _Chris, I love you. You love me. Nothing else matters. Please, don't give up on us. I won't._

Chris closed his eyes, laying the phone back on the desk screen down. Letting out a heavy breath, he wished for the thousandth time he could be the man she deserved. Only he knew now he couldn't. He was damaged beyond repair, and he refused to bring Bianca down with him.

"Sorry. Sorry. I know I'm late."

He opened his eyes to find his baby sister scurrying into the room looking frazzled. Her long brown hair was falling out of her ponytail, her clothes were wrinkled and she was struggling with her camera bag and a messenger bag, getting herself wrapped up in the straps as she tried to take them off.

"You okay, Mel?" he asked, rising from the chair to help her untangle. Once he had her free, he set the bags on floor by his desk and commented, "You're never late. Was there a demon?"

She blushed. "Um, no. Not a demon."

Chris tilted his head, studying his sister. Her eyes were avoiding looking even in his general direction. Weight was shifting constantly from foot to foot. Hugging herself, one hand was rubbing her upper arm. Red to her hairline but glowing. Oh for the love of - "My baby sister had sex."

Melinda's doe brown eyes turned saucer-like. She opened her mouth, making unintelligible sounds.

"I can't believe this," Chris muttered sinking back down into his desk chair. He buried his face in his hands barely resisting the urge to scream.

Melinda, misinterpreting his reaction, quickly pulled up a chair next to his and started talking a hundred miles an hour. "Please, don't freak out, Chris. You and Wyatt both started having sex younger than me, and don't even try to deny it because the kids at Magic School talked. Rumor has it Wyatt was seventeen and you were eighteen. I'll be twenty next month. And before you ask, yes, we were safe."

Pulling himself together enough to complete his protective older brother due diligence, he asked warily, "Who's the guy?"

"His name is George."

"You lost your virginity to a guy named George?" Chris questioned, not able to contain a chuckle. "Well, I'm officially not worried. Let me guess, baby faced? Lives with his parents? Twitchy around women?"

Melinda levelled a look at him. "He's sweet."

"Right," Chris snapped his fingers. "Forgot sweet."

"You're terrible," she said flatly. "George is great. He's really cute, kind, funny and smart. He's that friend I told you about who took me to the dance last fall, remember?" Off his nod, she went on, "Anyway, we kept getting closer until last night . . . well, you know. He wants to be a teacher, so you have that in common."

"I'm not the brother you have to sell," Chris remarked. "Wyatt is going to freak. You better hope lover boy is an undercover whitelighter cause he's going to need the ability to orb."

"Not funny."

"Not joking."

Melinda wrinkled her nose. "Why does Wyatt always treat me like I'm six?"

"Oldest sibling syndrome," Chris answered. "He's overprotective of me too, and I've got nearly as many powers as he does; whereas, you didn't inherit the same twice blessed status. Plus, we were raised by a man who lived through World War II. While feminist, Dad does still tend toward old fashioned, and he definitely passed some of that on to us - Wy more than me."

"But you're totally fine with this?" Melinda questioned with a raised brow.

Chris leaned back, folding his arms with a shrug. "Honestly, I only care about two things. One: Did he treat you with respect?"

Melinda smiled softly, the blush creeping back into her face. "Yeah. He was really great."

"Good because if that answer had been different Wyatt would be the least of his problems."

His sister rolled her eyes through a smile, shaking her head. "Sad thing is I know just how true that statement is. I'd much rather face Wyatt than a pissed off you any day. Angry Chris is a seriously scary Chris. Which makes me afraid to ask - What's the second thing you care about?"

"That you're happy," he answered, fixing her with a warm smile.

Melinda's smile turned blinding. "I don't think I've ever been happier. It's why I'm so late. We sort of spent all morning together, and I lost track of time. He made breakfast, and we talked, and, um, you know . . . again."

Her brother pulled a face. "Yeah, just because I'm okay with it doesn't mean I really want to hear too much about it. The fact he's good to you, and you're happy is really the extent of what I want to know."

"Fair enough," she replied with a laugh. Tilting her head she asked, "And you? How are things with Bianca? Mom and Wyatt both seem to think you've finally met your match. Based on my interactions with her I'd have to agree."

Chris' gaze automatically drifted over to his phone. Recalling all the messages Bianca had sent, his heart clenched. Then his mind pulled up the memory leading to why he was ignoring them. Vividly reliving the mortification, he closed his eyes with a wince.

"Chris?"

When he opened his eyes, Chris found his sister shooting him a worried look. Knowing it was only going to get worse, he forced himself to push forward. "I ended it. A few nights ago."

Melinda's mouth fell open and she blinked. A lot. Shaking her head, she wondered, "Why? What happened?"

"It's complicated." Out of nervous habit, he ran a hand through his hair. Dropping his eyes to the desk to avoid seeing the look on her face, he went on, "There's something I need to tell you, Mel. It's not good, and it's, uh, it's not easy for me to admit, which is why I've been keeping it from you."

"You can tell me anything," she assured. "Just take your time."

Chris nodded, swallowing through a rapidly growing lump in his throat. Staring at the gleaming wood surface of his desk, fixated on a spot where the light was reflecting off it, he took a steeling breath before beginning. "When I was captured a lot happened I didn't tell you. Didn't tell anyone, actually. There was torture - a lot of torture - and mind games. There was also . . ." A wave of nausea hit him just thinking the word. He put a fist up to his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut again.

Melinda's voice was soft and scared as she questioned, "Also what?"

"She, um, she . . ." he stammered, struggling to say the word. It felt as though admitting it out loud made it more real. Logically he knew it was real. It had happened, and very real consequences were going to literally be born from it. He berated himself, "Damn it. It's just a word. I lived it. What the hell is a word compared to that?"

"Compared to what?"

His throat felt too thick. Tongue too dry. Hands fisting in frustration, he angrily blurted, "Rape." With the word out of him, a weight lifted from his chest. The term no longer held him prisoner, and he let out a breath of relief at his conquest of it. "There. I finally said it. She raped me. I was raped."

"No," his sister breathed, half in disbelief and half in horror. Her brown eyes were wide and glistening. A hand had flown up to her mouth as she shook her head in denial. Several beats passed before she managed to choke out, "I'm such a jerk."

Chris blinked, thrown by the statement. "Come again?"

"You're my brother," she said, wiping away tears. "I should have realized something more was going on with you than you were saying. I should've been there for you. Definitely not talked about my love life with you like an insensitive, self-absorbed jerk."

He gave a half-smile. "You are not a jerk for wanting to share what's happening in your life with me. Besides, I didn't want you to know. I didn't want anyone to know. Sort of hoped I could forget it happened and move on." The smile slipped, his eyes dropping to his lap. "Turns out that's not possible."

"What do you mean?" she hesitantly questioned.

A stab of intense nerves sent his stomach rolling. Rubbing his hands together to dispel a little of the anxiety, the words stuck in his throat when he tried to say them. When he finally forced them out, they came in a rush. "Lamia is pregnant."

There was a long tense silence, which filled the room after those words were uttered. Finally, in a daze, Melinda asked, "What are you going to do?"

Looking up at his sister, Chris found shock and concern but no disgust or pity on her face. It was an indescribable relief. Feeling more confident, he answered, "They're innocent, and they're mine, and I feel like I have a responsibility to take care of them."

"Them?"

Chris nodded. "Twins. A boy and a girl."

Melinda blew out a breath. She turned her head away, staring at the back wall with a new round of tears in her eyes. She squeezed them shut.

When several minutes passed in silence, he pleaded, "Please, tell me what you're thinking."

She slowly turned to look at him. Though tears were still slipping down her face, she had a small smile as she told him, "I'm thinking my brother is the bravest, most selfless, loving person on the planet. How I love you so so much."

Emotion pricked the back of his eyes. "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that, Mel."

"Whatever you need," she said, "I hope you know you can count on me. Seriously - anything - you say the word, and it's done."

"I can use some backup at dinner Saturday," he told her. "I need to tell the rest of the family about the twins, and the prospect is fairly terrifying. Not everyone is going to see what I'm doing the way you do. There are definitely going to be fireworks, and while Wyatt's going he's a little too . . ." He drifted off not thinking of the right word.

Melinda grinned, supplying, "Whitelighterish?"

Chris chuckled. "Um, yeah. I could use some good old fashioned wiccan spunk in my corner. No one in the family fits the bill better than you."

"Then I'll be there," Melinda assured. "And if anyone dares to give you a hard time about dealing with this however you see fit, I will bring all kinds of fireworks of my own."

"That's my girl."

Looking unsure, his sister asked, "Would it be okay if your girl got a hug?"

He smiled adoringly at her. "Always."

While being touched often still evoked unease, he felt nothing but loved as Melinda hugged him tightly. It reminded him of all the times over the years he'd comforted her with an embrace after a scraped knee, failed test or broken heart. This time, she was the one comforting him, and he gladly accepted it.

He had no idea how much he would need his sister in the coming weeks.

000

Pacing back and forth in the conservatory, Chris was fairly certain he was going to be sick. Well, he was probably saved by the fact he'd been so nervous all day he hadn't actually eaten anything. So, despite his stomach churning, there wasn't actually anything in it.

"You're going to put a hole in the floor, Kit," Wyatt remarked from the loveseat. "Would you sit down already?"

Next to him, Melinda put in, "You have nothing to fear. Wyatt and I are both in your corner. You're not alone."

Before Chris could respond, a column of blue and white light formed into his Aunt Paige. Her honey-brown eyes immediately locked on Chris and her face morphed into guilt and sadness. Visibly swallowing her emotions, she put on a smile. "Chris. Hey. Um, can we talk a sec? I kinda came early hoping we might, you know, clear the air?"

"That would take more than a sec," he bitingly retorted.

Paige held up her hands, nodding agreement. "I know. I do. Just . . ." She shrugged, giving him a hopeful, pleading look. "Please? Can we talk?"

"Hey, Mel," Wyatt awkwardly began, "I think I heard Mom calling for us. We should . . ." He gestured with his thumb to the kitchen.

His sister rolled her eyes. "Subtle." She dutifully rose from the loveseat but paused in following Wyatt to the kitchen to address Chris first. "If you need us, give a shout, kay?" Only when he nodded agreement did she disappear after their older brother.

Towering over his aunt, Chris crossed his arms. "You wanted to talk. Talk."

"I screwed up."

"Ya think?" He bitterly shook his head. "You were a social worker. How the hell could you think blabbing my private, painful business was okay?"

Paige pulled a face. "Does it help if I admit I wasn't that great of a social worker?" When he didn't respond to the joke, her shoulders fell and she sighed. "Truthfully, I always sorta got too involved even back then. I couldn't keep my personal feelings out of it. So when I realized what had happened to my favorite nephew, I freaked and went into super-fix-it mode."

Chris scoffed. "You realize it can't _be_ fixed right? What's done is done, and I have to live with it forever. Me. Not you. Not everyone else. Me. I should have been given the respect to decide when I shared it and with whom. Instead, you stole that from me. It was humiliating and horrifying, Paige."

"People make mistakes," she softly defended, eyes starting to shine. "I know I handled it all wrong. I just thought if people understood, they'd back off. Give you time and space, so you could decide when to come to us. It was stupid. And insensitive. And I am so, so sorry, Chris."

Looking at his aunt, he saw the earnestness on her face. Regret slipping from her eyes. Remembering parts of Other Chris' experience in the past, he also understood his aunt a little better. Paige was impulsive and headstrong and could never let anything be when she believed she could help. While she'd matured and mellowed a little with age, those traits were still present. What she'd done was wrong, but it had come from a good place.

"I'm still really, incredibly angry with you," Chris started.

Paige's shoulders went up, face scrunching. "Is there a but?"

He sighed. " _But_ , I think I get it. Someone you loved got hurt in a way no one in this family has ever experienced before, and you didn't know what to do. You panicked, so you did the same thing you would for a demon attack - You rallied the troops."

"So," she drew out, "does that mean you might possibly maybe someday forgive me?"

The corner of his mouth pulled up at her hopeful, childish expression. Giving a one shouldered shrug, he conceded, "Yeah. Someday."

Paige's face lit up. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by the sound of the front door swinging open only to loudly shut a moment later. It was followed by high heels clacking on the wood floor and Phoebe calling out hello.

The middle Charmed One appeared a moment later. Her face fell as she spotted her nephew. Brown eyes became pools of sorrow, and with one word she conveyed more emotion than most could with a hundred. "Chris."

"That," he wagged a finger at her, "not helping."

Phoebe's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"You looking at me like I'm broken," he explained. "It needs to stop right this second. I am not sitting through dinner with you giving me sad, Poor-Chris eyes the whole time."

Looking shocked, Phoebe shook her head. "Oh God, Sweetie, no. That's not what I think at all. You are one of the strongest people I've ever known, Chris, and what happened doesn't change that."

"What happened," he dryly repeated. "God I hate euphemisms. Everyone knows _what happened_ thanks to Paige here, so let's call it what it was shall we? I was raped. By a demon. And you're wrong. It changed me. I may never get back who I was. Still, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather you not stare at me with your big brown eyes of empathy all night reminding me of that fact every second."

Phoebe, eyes growing moist, shook her head. "It's not like that. It has nothing to do with you. It's about me."

"Everything always is," he returned.

Blowing out a hurt breath and dropping her head, Phoebe remarked, "I deserve that. You know, I've done a lot of thinking this year about our relationship, Chris, and you were right. I was a terrible aunt."

"Wait, what?" Chris questioned, not sure he'd heard correctly.

She looked up, face a mix of fierce determination and regret. "I let you down over and over again. Not because I didn't love you, but because you were always so self-sufficient and confident I assumed you would always be fine. And, yes, part of that was because of Other Chris. After what he went through, I figured there was nothing you couldn't handle. So, I brushed you off, treated you like I treated _him_ , and it makes me sick to realize how awful I've been to you. How I keep messing up with you when you're such an amazing young man."

For the first time in his life, Chris believed Phoebe might actually, genuinely care about him. He knew they had a lot of issues to work through both from his last life and this one, but knowing he wasn't just her annoying nephew, that she did love him, helped spark hope it was possible. Maybe someday, he and Phoebe could be close. Well, closer anyway.

"All I'm asking is for another chance with you," Phoebe went on. "The chance to somehow make up for all the times I did wrong by you."

"Well," Chris replied, "as it turns out, you're going to have that opportunity very soon."

His aunts exchanged worried looks. A silent sister communication passed between them, and somehow it led to Phoebe turning back to Chris with a nervous smile. Looking twitchy, she began, "So, not that we're not super grateful for this chance to talk to you and maybe start working through some of our problems, but, uh, . . ." She drifted off turning to Paige.

Jerking to attention, Paige picked up, "It's sort of out of the blue. Until now, you've been pretty consistent with the whole not talking to us thing."

"Are you in some kind of trouble?" Phoebe questioned. "I mean, not only is it sudden, but Piper said you requested just us. That you said it was really important."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Chris nodded. "Yeah. I have some kind of big news. I'll explain everything at dinner."

Wyatt poked his head out of the kitchen. "Sorry if I'm interrupting what I hope is a constructive conversation leading to understanding and forgiveness, but dinner is ready, and we all know how Mom gets when food sits out uneaten too long."

When the Twice Blessed ducked back into the kitchen, Paige quipped, "Anyone else get a Leo flash there?"

Phoebe and Chris both raised their hands.

Fifteen minutes later everyone was seated around the kitchen table, plates full of pad thai. Conversation began with casual questions on how everyone was doing. Melinda was asked how the current semester of college was going. Paige shared a funny story about a charge. Phoebe talked about the progress of her latest book. Chris dodged a question about Bianca. Wyatt told a touching tale about helping a horse deliver her foal. Leo kept talking about Magic School, shooting a pointed look to Chris when he mentioned retiring at some point in the coming years.

Only Piper remained silent, twirling her noodles around her fork without actually eating anything. Now and then, Chris caught her staring at him. The look on her face was concerned and loving, and part of him wondered if somehow she had guessed the reason for this dinner. Whenever she realized she'd been found out, she smiled, but it never reached her eyes.

When a few minutes of silence passed, Paige loudly set down her glass of water and turned to face Chris. After everyone had turned to look at her, she pointedly asked, "So, Chris, you had mentioned some big news earlier?" When he didn't say anything, she gestured with a hand. "Well? What's up?"

Having only taken a few bites of what was easily the best pad thai he'd ever tasted, Chris pushed his plate away. Faced with the moment he'd been dreading, his hands and neck flashed hot as his stomach went sour. He was shaky with nerves as he felt every eye turn to him.

His mother caught his eyes. Hers were filled with strength and reassurance, which he could almost feel her willing him to take from her. She gave him one firm nod and softly told him, "It's okay, Chris. Whenever you're ready."

"What's going on?" Leo questioned, his gaze switching worriedly between his wife and his youngest son.

Chris fisted the fabric of his pants hard enough his hands were trembling. "It's about . . . well, um, Lamia, she, she uh . . ." His mouth might as well have been full of sand as dry as it was, and he could almost taste it going down his throat, choking him. He couldn't do this. He couldn't tell them. He dropped his head to avoid looking at them.

"No matter what we all love you so much," Phoebe encourage. "None of us can even imagine how hard this is for you, so if you're not comfortable talking about it, we don't have to. It's your decision. Your choice."

Wyatt gently reminded, "They're going to find out eventually, Kit. I promise it really is going to be okay."

The lines deepened on Leo's face as he turned to his oldest. "Find out what? Wyatt, do you know what this is all about?"

"It's not mine to tell," his oldest diplomatically replied.

Love, fear and confusion warred on the former elder's face as he fixed his younger son with a pleading look. "Chris?"

Staring at a peanut on his plate, Chris took several breaths. Slow and steady. In and out. In and out. Feeling less queasy, less scared, he decided blunt was best. No confusion that way. It'd be over faster too. Wetting his lips first, he announced, "Lamia is having twins, and I plan to raise them."

"Oh God," Phoebe breathed.

"Come again?" Paige sharply questioned.

Piper put a hand up to her mouth, closing her eyes while Leo turned into a blinking, fish-mouthed statue with shining eyes.

Melinda and Wyatt were both nodding, switching between giving Chris reassuring smiles and shooting the other members of the family warning looks to keep calm.

"They're due in two months," Chris went on, braving a glance at his aunts and parents. While his mother kept forcing a supportive smile, the others varied from numb to horrified. He flinched and dropped his eyes back to the safety of the peanut.

"Have you really thought this through?" Phoebe carefully questioned. "It's hard enough being a young, single parent, but add in magic and all the painful memories they're going to continually bring up . . . Sweetie, I'm not sure it's such a good idea."

Paige added, "No one would blame you for walking away in this situation. You didn't ask for what happened, and these demon children are not your responsibility."

"Then whose responsibility are they?" Chris countered. "I'm not leaving them with that monster."

"Fine," Paige conceded, "then give them up for adoption."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Yeah, there's a great idea. Let's give the half demon children up for adoption, so they can either scare the crap out of their mortal parents, or even better, let them get kidnapped by full demons and used against us."

Paige pulled a face.

"Chris," Phoebe tried again, "I had a vision. I didn't understand it until now, but it was about the twins. I'm sorry to tell you, but when the babies are born, you don't handle it well. You were sitting on your bed, and you were actually crying. Saying how you couldn't even stand to look at them. I'm pretty sure you felt you'd made a huge mistake."

"I broke down?" Chris questioned, dread settling heavy in his stomach. All the progress he'd made could be wiped out. He could become a numb shell again, trapped in his nightmarish memories forever. Maybe he was making the wrong call after all.

His mother edged a glare at her sister while commenting, "Phoebe's visions don't always come to pass, Peanut. We'll make sure this one doesn't. If you feel this is the right thing to do, we will make it work. You're not alone."

Chris' gaze switched to his mother, who had transformed into her indomitable matriarch mode. Locking eyes with her, he drank in her strength, love and support like gulping water. Confidence in his decision returned, he nodded at her with a half smile.

"They're still demonic babies," Paige reminded. "It makes them inherently prone to evil."

Piper countered, "Nick is half manticore, and he's a perfectly nice young man."

"That's not always the case," Phoebe sadly put in. "Cole was half human but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't be good. He caused a lot of damage and hurt a lot of people."

Melinda glared at her aunts. "You're letting the past affect the present. Don't be so close minded. It's not about being human or not. Look around the world - mortals do terrible things all the time."

"True," Paige conceded, "but a demon is genetically engineered toward it. Dark magic corrupts."

"Magic is neutral," Wyatt countered. "The wielder is what decides its purpose. I'm disappointed in you, Aunt Paige. You more than anyone else here should understand the importance of nurture over nature."

Paige winced. "Ugh, you're right. You're totally right. It's just . . ." She gave Chris an apologetic look. "I, for one, don't want you to get hurt again. You've already been through so much, and I'm scared this might not go the way you think."

"I'm scared too," Chris admitted. "It's why I was really hoping for some support here."

In a voice leaving zero room for argument, Piper sharply eyed her sisters and informed, "And we will give it without our judgement or even our opinions. Capisce?"

"Of course we will all do everything in our power to help," Phoebe assured. "There was never a question of that. Whatever Chris decides we will obviously support that decision. Paige and I just want to make sure everything has been fully considered. Right, Paige?"

Paige nodded. "Right. Totally your decision, but we love you too much not to voice our concerns. If you're still sure, then you won't hear another peep about it from me."

"I'm not sure," Chris confessed. "How can I be? It means raising the children of a creature I hate. Seeing her in them every day. Trying to keep two very powerful magical children on the side of good when their mother was the worst monster I've ever encountered. Truthfully, I have no idea if I'm making the right decision. Maybe Phoebe's vision will come true."

Phoebe fixed a warm gaze on Chris. "Don't let what I saw stop you from doing what you think is right, Chris. Even if you're not sure, something inside you told you this was what you needed to do. You've got great instincts. Trust them. Besides, if I've learned nothing else, it's that the future is ours to mold."

"And if anyone is a master at making the future better," Paige added with a grin, "it's you, Kiddo."

Looking around the table, Chris found only one person who hadn't offered any opinion or given any clue as to their thoughts. Hesitantly, he questioned, "Dad . . . what are you thinking?"

Leo, eyes brimming with emotion, tried to smile but there was sadness mixed in it. "I have to believe everything happens for a reason. If I stop having faith in that belief there is too much evil and pain in the world to bear. It may be hard to hear right now, but maybe these children are the reason for what you went through. Maybe they can be the good you find in it. Help you heal. That's my hope for you."

Chris had never considered it that way before. He'd seen them as a burden and responsibility. Innocents he needed to save and nothing more. Perhaps, they were meant to be more. Maybe out of the darkest days of his life, a light could be found. It was said children were always a blessing . . . maybe his could be his salvation.

TBC . . .


	16. The Path to Hell

Thank you so much to those of you kind enough to leave reviews: Talhulla, Korzy Potterwell, sise87, twiceborn-witchlighter, MsDrea and gabyhyatt. It feeds my muse and helps me keep pushing on :)

Chapter 16

Due for his weekly visit to Lamia's cavern, Chris orbed in to one of the most unusual sights of his life. Firstly, if not for the rock walls and ceiling, the place could have passed for a room out of some Good House Keeping photo shoot. Where suspension bars and dungeon chains once hung, soft pastoral paintings graced the walls. Instead of the torture table was a white chaise lounger. The table normally containing the instruments used to rip out Chris' teeth and nails, tear into his skin, now had a lovely lace cloth and a vase of wildflowers. Somehow the entire floor had been covered in white carpet.

Stranger still was the image of Lamia lying on her side, curled in as much as her heavily pregnant stomach would allow, sobbing on said carpet. Pale and shaky, she was crying hard enough her breath kept hitching. While normally she floated over the moment he arrived, often begging for a kiss, she didn't so much as glance in his direction.

Not sure what to expect, decidedly unfond of surprises, his stomach twisted with apprehension. He mechanically crossed the distance to Lamia's side. Squatting down, his throat was thick causing his words to catch as he questioned, "What . . . what happened?"

Lamia turned her head to look up at him, and the sight of her face made Chris gasp. She was barely recognizable. While the same haunting violet eyes swam with tears, the rest of her face had changed. Instead of strong, striking features, everything was softer, rounder and lined with age. White streaked her copper hair, which hung limply, clinging to wet cheeks.

"You're completely mortal," Chris realized.

"The curse is lifted," she confirmed. Even her voice was different. Not silkily seductive but higher pitched and broken. "I didn't understand. I didn't know. Oh, Zeus, Hera must be laughing. This was her true curse all along. This moment."

The demoness - woman - dropped her head and started sobbing again, but Chris was unmoved by her tears. He'd shed plenty in her presence, and she'd never cared. Still, he had a role to play, so he kept the irritation and bitterness out of his voice when he asked, "What are you talking about, Lamia?"

"Thousands of years I lived without a soul," she choked out. "It's returned, but it is damned. Blackened with all the suffering I caused. The lives I took. By Zeus, I was every bit the monster Hera physically turned me into. I couldn't bear to see the proof of what I'd done, so I used my magic to alter the cavern, but the tortured faces - the screams - I can't get them out of my head. Worst of all . . . is yours."

As she fell to more sobbing, Chris dug his fingernails into his palms and bit the inside of his mouth. He didn't trust himself to speak just then.

"The curse," Lamia continued between sniffles and gasps, "Hera's true revenge for my stealing her husband, was to make me fall in love with my savior while he hates me above all others. To lose my love and the chance for our family forever."

"I'm here," Chris carefully countered. "I've been coming every week just as I promised. You haven't lost me."

Tears ran down her oddly plain face. "You come for them. Not me. You would do anything for these children because you are a good man - an angel. That was Hera's cruel joke. She knew an angel could never love a monster. I would have to force you, and you would hate me for it. Rightly so too."

Stomach clenching hard, he swallowed a surge of nausea and put his hand to her face, gently thumbing away a tear trail. "It was the curse. You're human now. And the mother of my children. All is forgiven."

To his shock, Lamia shoved him away hard enough he toppled. She scrambled backwards, shaking her head. "No! Don't lie to me! Please. I'm so lonely. And scared. If you tempt me, I will hold you tight. Will kiss you and try to drown in you. Please, don't tempt me. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

The level of sorrow and guilt, fear and pain, in her eyes was startling. Chris' mouth fell open, brain not quite able to process what he was experiencing. Because somewhere, deep in a place inside of him he would have sworn this woman had destroyed . . . he pitied her in this moment.

"The twins are special," Lamia's hands held her stomach as though it were a life preserver. "I swear to you they have no demon blood in their veins. Their elder magic protected them from my curse of creating monsters. They are entirely human but powerful both in your magic and my sorcery."

When he had first started being able to sense the twins, Chris hadn't picked up any dark magic. He'd thought the potion he had created for Lamia was the reason, but the truth was they had never been tainted in the first place. They really were innocent babies and nothing more.

"Sorcery is a dangerous art," Lamia went on, still not looking at him. "The wiccan rede does not apply to it. It is completely neutral and very old and rare. It will tempt them. You must teach them to use it sparingly."

Getting back to his knees in front of her, he frowned. "Don't you mean _we_ must teach them?"

Finally looking up at him, Lamia smiled, sad and small. "We both know you plan to kill me the moment they're born."

Knowing there was no point in lying anymore, Chris bluntly confessed, "I had. Plans change. You're human now. In my book, that means ending your life is murder, and I'm not a killer. Honestly, at this point, I don't know what the hell to do with you."

"You won't have to do anything," Lamia cryptically murmured.

Before Chris had a chance to ask her what she meant, she cried out. Face twisted in pain, she clutched her abdomen with one hand while the other reached out for the cave wall. Instinctively, he grabbed her shoulders to steady her. When she screamed, her fingernails dug into his shoulders and a minute later the knees of his jeans were soaked.

"Holy shit," Chris breathed, looking down to find a puddle of amniotic fluid. Wide green eyes darted up to Lamia's pained face back to the wet ground and up again. "Your water broke."

"I'm aware," she ground out before another scream ripped from her lungs and her body jerked under his hands. "They're coming. Fast. Help me to the bed."

Picking her up and carrying her to the bed, Chris was struck by flashes of how he'd performed this same action many times as her prisoner. He remembered tossing her on the mattress and lying on top of her barely clothed body. Spreading her legs and kissing up her thighs to taste her. Hands sliding up to her breasts. Working her into a tizzy until she deigned to fuck him and finally leave him in peace for a few hours.

Another scream broke him from the stupor. With more care than she deserved, he laid her on the bed. As she started breathing in short, controlled huffs, sweat forming on her brow, Chris ran a hand through his hair. "You need a doctor or a midwife or something. I don't . . ." An idea formed. "I'll be right back."

With the sound of a scream coming out in the form of the word 'hurry', Chris orbed to the one person he always turned to when he finally reached the point he was willing to admit he needed help. Which led him to the alley behind Bay Area Veterinary Clinic. Reforming behind a dumpster, he ran full speed around the corner and to the entrance. He nearly ran into the doors because they didn't slide open fast enough.

Skidding to a stop at the reception desk, Chris tapped the bell on the counter repeatedly to get the receptionist's attention. He couldn't think of her name just then. It started with a 'B'. Becky or Beverly or . . . When she finally turned around from whatever she was working on at the back counter, her name tag read 'Beth', and she smiled warmly at the sight of him.

"Chris Halliwell," she greeted a bit flirtatiously, "well, I haven't seen you around here for a long time. You looking for Wyatt?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it's a family emergency. Please, get him as fast as you can. It's critical."

"Your family sure has a lot of emergencies." Shaking her head, she sauntered out a door at the back labeled for employees only.

Chris sighed, muttering, "You have no idea."

Staring at the back door silently pleading for it to open to reveal his brother, Chris' nerves wore out. He started bouncing on his heels and tapping the counter with his hand. Every few seconds he glanced at the digital clock feeling like minutes had passed only to find the exact same reading each time he checked. When the door finally opened to reveal Wyatt in his lab coat, Chris let out a breath he hadn't even known he was holding.

Coming around the counter, Wyatt gently grabbed him by the shoulders, studying his sibling with a furrowed brow. "Kit, what's wrong?"

"The babies," was all he could manage to get out.

The color drained from the older man's face. Over his shoulder he informed Beth, "Cancel the rest of my appointments for this afternoon." Turning back to Chris, Wyatt locked eyes with him. In a voice he normally reserved for playing the Twice Blessed Witch to demons, he swore, "I will not let anything happen to them. Now, let's go."

Nodding, Chris let Wyatt half-drag him out of the clinic to the back alley. His mind was twisting like a tornado, thoughts and emotions debris in his head. He didn't even register when Wyatt orbed them to Lamia's lair. He froze in panic at the sight of Lamia, knees bent and hunched over on the bed screaming.

Wyatt hurried to the labouring woman, stooping over at the end of the bed to examine her condition. Finished, he fixed her with a coldness not typical the gentle spirit. "I haven't done this with a human before, and while I won't do anything to cause it, I don't care if you die. My only priority is getting these babies out safely even if I have to orb them out of your corpse. Do we understand one another?"

"Perfectly," she grunted.

"Chris, find a bucket of warm water, towels and a small blanket," Wyatt ordered. "Hurry. Baby one is already crowning."

Having seen enough medical dramas to know what that meant, Chris' mouth fell open as he blinked stupidly. It wasn't until his brother gave him a light telekinetic push, he snapped out of it and took off in a run down the corridor to the hot springs.

Slipping on the wet floor, arms windmilling as he slid, he regained his balance and called out, "Bucket." When the red pail from under the kitchen sink in their apartment appeared in his hands, he thrust it under the waterfall. When it was full he orbed back to Wyatt not wanting to risk spilling it.

"Towel?" Wyatt questioned.

Frazzled, Chris snapped, "You can call for one as easily as I can."

With his hands at the ready to guide out the first baby, the older brother edged him an irritated look. "Really? Do you not see I'm a little busy at the moment, Christopher? Oh, and I also need a sterilized sharp knife or scissors. Two small clamps."

Repeating the list and adding a few articles he'd thought of on his own, Chris was pretty sure he'd just stolen from one of the local hospitals as the materials appeared in swirls of light. He couldn't think of where else to get the proper supplies, so he'd been thinking of the hospital when he called. The towel had the initials 'SFMH' on the corner. Yup. He was a thief. Great start to being a father.

"Big push now," Wyatt ordered to Lamia. "Ready and . . . push."

Lamia screamed, hands fisting the bedding as she curled in on herself and pushed hard. Chris saw a head come out of somewhere a human head should not be. A fist flew to his mouth and he lurched watching Wyatt deliver the most disgusting, blood and who-knows-what else covered creature who immediately started loudly crying.

Panting with exertion, Lamia looked up at Chris as the baby's wail echoed off the walls. A small, tired smile graced her face making her look almost pretty again. "Our son has strong lungs."

At the words 'our son', Chris winced and something inside him crumbled a little.

"Baby one is the boy," Wyatt confirmed, sounding surprised.

"Matthew," Chris numbly informed. "His name is Matthew."

Wyatt's eyebrows went up, mouth opening slowly into a smile. Not having time to dwell on the honor, he nodded appreciation before getting back to work. Clamping the cord, he cut it then cleaned up the shivering newborn with the gentle use of a towel and warm water. Quickly diapering and wrapping the child in a blanket, he then turned to hold him out to Chris.

Hesitantly, Chris took the newborn in his arms. Matthew's pudgy face was all red and wrinkled as he cried until a fist escaped the blanket and went up to his mouth so he could suck on it. While eventually he would have his father's green eyes, they were currently a deep navy pair. Staring at this precious newborn, who was blinking back at him, Chris felt nothing.

Lamia grunted and groaned before crying out again. Tossing her head back she let out a primal cry as the second twin emerged into Wyatt's waiting hands with a pitiful squack of discontent.

Repeating the same process he had with Matthew, Wyatt readied the newborn girl. He did not present her to Chris though. With a worried expression on his face, he looked to his brother then down at the infant. He carefully informed, "She . . . Chris, her eyes . . ."

"Violet," Chris neutrally supplied. "I know. Her name is Victoria."

"Grandpa is going to love that," Wyatt remarked with a smile. Taking a breath, still not looking convinced it was a good idea, he held her out for Chris to see. He earnestly offered, "She's beautiful, Kit. They both are. Inside and out from what I can sense. Healthy too based on my exam, but we should have them checked by a real doctor to be safe."

Chris didn't hear him. His thoughts were too loud. When his daughter's unfocused gaze landed on him, he didn't see her beauty. He saw Lamia. His stomach twisted and churned. Switching focus between the two newborns, his scattered thoughts coalesced into one panicked realization. He did not love them. Not even a little.

"Kit?" Wyatt questioned. "Chris, what's wrong?"

A pained gasp drew both their attentions to the bed. The knife Wyatt had used to cut the umbilical cords was buried deep in Lamia's chest, her own hands wrapped tightly around the handle. Shaking in shock, blood staining her palms, she looked wide eyed to Chris. "My gift to you, my love. Revenge wherein your hands stay clean."

She slumped to the side. Quaking hands yanked the knife from her chest, resulting in another ear piercing scream of agony. Blood quickly fountained out of her chest, slicking the bed covers crimson.

Watching her tremble in death throes, the color quickly fading out of her and dripping onto the floor, Chris found no satisfaction in it. Instead, he saw it as one more thing for him to explain to his children. Forcing his reluctant feet forward, he took a seat on the bed, shifting so she could see Matthew. "Say goodbye to your children. That way, when they ask me about this moment later, I'll be able to tell them something comforting. Something about how their mother loved them."

Taking his cue from his brother, Wyatt carefully positioned Victoria in the crook of Chris' free arm, so he could present her to Lamia as well. He then took a step back, letting his brother handle the moment without interference.

Lamia's sweaty, pained face twisted into a smile as she looked at the newborns. "I wish I could know you. Sing you to sleep and hold you tight. I love you both more than feeble words can say. You will be surrounded by love though. Raised by a family of light and warmth. It is my solace in this dark moment." She coughed, blood splattering her chin as her head lolled to the side. Eyelids lowering, the moment arriving, she weakly finished, "I have done many things wrong in my life, but you two . . . my final act on this earth was to bring angels into the world."

The last breath left her body, and finally, after centuries of a demented, twisted existence, Lamia passed from this earth.

Chris had expected closure with her death. A feeling of freedom or relief. Some invisible chains to fall away as an equally unseen weight lifted from him. Instead, he stared at her corpse and was filled with despair. Because now he knew with absolute certainty he couldn't escape the hold she had on him. What she'd done to him would always remain in the form of scars on his soul and ceaseless dark memories. The nightmare would never be over. Her legacy would live on.

He was currently holding it in his arms. Currently feeling like he'd made a terrible, terrible mistake.

TBC . . .


	17. It Don't Come Easy

**Thank you so much to Korzy Potterwell, Naruto Loves FemKyuubi, sise87, Tahulla, and gabyhyatt for your reviews on the last chapter. They really do feed the muse, which means she was quite content and spat out this long chapter :)**

Chapter 17

Sitting at the edge of his bed, Chris stared unseeingly at the far wall. Shoulders slumped, head bowed, a single tear ran down his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in his lips as his breath hitched hard. After a moment, his sage eyes opened, glistening with liquid pain. Voice shaking, he brokenly wondered, "How am I supposed to do this? I can't even stand to look at them. I'm not strong enough. I can't do this."

It had been one week since he'd brought the twins home. One week of a never ending cycle of diapers, bottles and ear-splitting wails. Of next to no sleep. Of wondering when the magic moment would strike that he felt _something_ toward these tiny, puking, crying creatures, who made his family melt and 'aw' while he cringed and prayed they wouldn't hand them back to him.

Matthew was asleep in the bassinet at the end of Chris' bed. When the newborn's pacifier fell out, the child conjured a new one in a flash of red without even waking up. It should have been cute. Maybe even a moment of pride for the new father to see how capable and strong his son was. Instead, he kept thinking how it wasn't wiccan conjuring his son used. It was sorcery. Unlike his sister, Matthew's powers more often manifested on that side of the spectrum. It was a self-serving magic, and it scared Chris how easily the child accessed it. What would he grow to become? It was the moment the new father had turned his head away, refusing to watch the child sleep anymore.

Then there was Victoria. Those damn violet eyes. Everytime she blinked up at him, instead of seeing his beautiful newborn daughter an image of Lamia's face popped into his mind. It made his stomach churn, and it took every bit of strength and determination he had not to put her down and orb away never to look back. It's why she was currently with Wyatt out in their living room. He'd asked his brother to give her the night bottle, claiming to need some sleep. Wyatt being Wyatt easily agreed, cooing at his niece who already had him wrapped around her finger. The two of them had fallen asleep together on the sofa.

It was incredibly tempting to run away. To write a note to his family explaining how he'd made a terrible mistake and couldn't stay. They'd take care of the twins. Family was everything to them, so it wasn't like he was tossing them in a dumpster. They'd be loved and protected. Only . . . Chris Halliwell was not a coward or a quitter. So, here he sat. Trying desperately to convince himself not to hate his own children.

A shimmer in the air startled him, and in his sleep deprived, emotional state, his powers reacted automatically. If not for an assassin's reflexes, Bianca would have been electrocuted with a bolt of lightning. Instead, it struck a picture of he and Wyatt setting on his dresser, blowing it to pieces with a loud crack while leaving a black scorch mark on the wall.

The sound woke Matthew, who lost his second pacifier when he started screaming. Fighting out of the tight wrap of the blanket, his pudgy arms flailed wildly as his legs went up and down still trapped.

Rising from her squat, Bianca quirked a brow at Chris. "I know you don't want to see me, but that was a bit extreme, don't you think?" She frowned in concern as she got a clear view of his face. "Chris?"

His head mechanically turned to look at Matthew whose blanket was mysteriously missing. With a sigh, he determined his son had sent it somewhere. The kid was stubborn and hated being wrapped, but everything Chris had read told him kids weren't supposed to have loose blankets until they were older. Being wrapped was supposed to be soothing, but it seemed to piss his son off. A lot of things did, he mused. Which was why he wasn't surprised when a few seconds later the little boy's face scrunched and turned red with a sharp cry. Chris knew he should pick the baby up. Rock him or something. Only he couldn't seem to talk himself into it.

Bianca swiftly crossed the room to the bassinet. Like she'd been doing it all her life, she picked up the baby, cradling him in her arms. Lightly bouncing, she hummed a tune Chris didn't recognize, and in a matter of minutes, Matthew was asleep again. Bianca smiled down at the baby before glancing up at his father. "He looks like you."

Chris closed his eyes, swallowing hard. When the bed shifted next to him, he edged a look and found Bianca sitting next to him with Matthew still in her arms. He switched his gaze to the back wall.

"Chris, are you really that upset I'm here?" Bianca wondered softly. "You had to know I wouldn't let you avoid me forever."

"Now's not really a good time," he numbly replied. "Or did you miss the fact I almost fried you for breaking through the wards?"

He could practically feel her scrutiny on the side of his head. She let out a breath full of emotion. If he weren't so damn tired he might have been able to figure out exactly which emotions, but as it was, he could barely stay upright needless to say think critically.

After several minutes of silence she knowingly commented, "It's not what you thought, is it?"

He thought about lying. More and more his other version's tendencies were popping up, and putting on a strong front, manipulating and lying even to those he loved most was becoming easier all the time. It's how he'd suckered Wyatt into taking care of Victoria most of the week. How when his parents and Mel had come to meet the twins, he'd managed to convince them he was fine. Only, his brain physically hurt right now and nothing was coming to mind to tell Bianca.

"Chris," she started, "you know me. You know whatever you say will never leave these walls. You know I would never judge you considering the things I've done in my past. Whatever is going on in that head of yours, you need to share it before you do something you can't take back."

Letting out a long stream of air, he quietly admitted, "You were right all along."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't do this." Ashamed, he winced as the words left his mouth. Still, the floodgate had been opened, and he couldn't seem to stop everything he'd been holding in from coming out. "I look at them, and I don't see me. I see _her_. They're _hers_ , and I'm stuck raising them, and . . . I hate it. When they cry, I don't feel bad. I get annoyed and pissed. Then, I feel guilty because they're just babies. But, it _never_ stops. One of them always needs _something_ , and I'm fucking exhausted."

Bianca smiled sympathetically. "This is a lot for anyone to take on even under the best circumstances. Twins take a ridiculous amount of care. Add all the emotional baggage you're trying to carry on top of it, and no one can blame you for having doubts."

Chris shook his head. "Not doubts, Bianca. It's so much worse than doubts. Everyone always talks about how they look at their baby, and they feel this instant connection. Unconditional love. Their life suddenly has meaning. I don't have any of that. Worse, I don't even like them. Not holding them or even looking at them. In the really dark moments, all I see them as are these life-sucking burdens, and I wish . . . I wish I would have let you kill them."

At the horrible confession, he covered his face with a hand so Bianca couldn't see the crumpled expression it contained. When she didn't say anything, he wondered if maybe he'd actually said something so hateful and vile even the former assassin thought him too awful for words. When he finally braved glancing in her direction he found she had placed Matthew back in the bassinet and was now kneeling in front of him.

She took his hands, looking up at him with a painful amount of love and understanding. "Chris, when was the last time you slept?"

He shrugged. He honestly couldn't remember.

Bianca sighed. "Lack of sleep can make us do and feel things we normally wouldn't. Does strange things to our minds. Did you know my clan actually uses sleep deprivation as a form of torture?" She gently pulled him to his feet. "You need to sleep. Even a few hours is going to make you feel so much better. Make everything seem better, easier."

Running on empty, his emotions were pulling him under their tow, drowning him. Voice cracking, he wondered, "What if I never love them, Bianca? What if because of it, I fail them? What if they turn out just like _her_?"

Guiding him to the front of the bed, she pulled back the covers and gently pushed him down. Cupping his face in her hands, she promised, "You will love them because you have the biggest heart I've ever known. You find a way to see the good in everyone. Knew your crazy, evil brother was capable of being saved. Looked at an assassin and saw a broken woman, terrified of hoping. Convinced her to fall in love with you."

"Why are you doing this?" Chris weakly questioned, pulling out of her grasp. "Why are you even here? I'm not the man you love. I tried to be, and I failed miserably. It's why I broke up with you. Why looking at you right now is killing me. I feel emasculated and humiliated and . . . I can't be with you. This doesn't change that."

Bianca's eyes glistened, but when she spoke, her voice was steady. "I'm sorry you feel that way. For what it's worth, I love you, and I do see you as the strong, amazing man I have loved in two lifetimes. Nothing that's happened has changed or ever will change that. I'm not going to push you though. You've got enough on your plate. So, for now, I'm going to be your friend. I'm going to stay here in case Matthew wakes up so you can sleep."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You're not."

Chris saw the look in her eyes and knew he wasn't winning this argument. Not as tired as he was and as determined as she was. Reluctantly, he swung his legs up onto the bed, pulling the covers over them. As soon as his head hit the pillow, it grew heavy with fatigue. His eyelids drooped. The last sight before unconsciousness claimed him was Bianca standing above him with eyes only for him, and his heart ached. It was no wonder all his dreams were of being in her arms.

000

Orbing into the manor, Chris barely formed in the conservatory before his mother was swooping down on him with her blinding smile, reaching out for one of the infant carriers in his hands. A second later, his father was there too, grabbing the other. Phoebe and Paige were close on their heels, each fawning over the babies. Everyone was cooing and making faces as the proud grandparents undid the harnesses and cradled the infants in their arms. Chris hadn't even gotten a hello. He'd noticed that. Wherever he went, if the babies were with, he ceased to exist.

"Oh my goodness," Phoebe rambled in a baby voice to Matthew, "you are too handsome. Yes, you are. You look just like your daddy, and I wanna squish those sweet little cheeks. Yes, I do. You are so stinkin' cute."

Chris rolled his eyes, shoving his hands in his pockets. Only when he spotted his mother staring at him with a slight frown and head tilted as though puzzling something out, did he force a smile.

Kat, Tam and PJ came hurrying into the room all wearing matching faces of adoration. 'Ooohs' were heard in triplicate as they hovered around his aunts, who had swiped the babies from his parents. Phoebe very reluctantly passed Matthew to her daughter while Paige handed Victoria to Kat.

"You make seriously cute babies," Tam remarked to Chris with a teasing grin. "Who'd have thought?"

"Gee, love you too, Cuz."

Kat smiled softly down at Victoria. "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, Little Girl."

Chris bit the inside of his mouth hard enough he was going to have a canker. He gestured vaguely to the kitchen. "I'm going to go grab some water. Be right back." He didn't wait for a response before hurrying out of the room.

Henry Sr. and Henry Jr. were sitting at the table with Coop playing a card game before supper. Parker and Peyton were whispering to each other over on the other side of the island by the sink. Chris didn't fail to notice how they stopped talking when he entered the room. How they glanced up with flushed faces only to immediately drop their eyes to the floor.

His uncle Henry gave him a thin smile. "Hey, Chris. Long time no see."

"Yeah," he agreed with an awkward nod. "Been, uh, busy I guess."

"Is Bianca coming to dinner?" Coop tried and failed to ask nonchalantly.

Chris opened the fridge and took no time to consider grabbing a beer. Shutting the door he popped the cap off on the counter in a way his mother would have cupped him upside the head for and took a swig. After swallowing, he bluntly informed, "She's not my girlfriend anymore, so that'd be pretty awkward if she did."

His cousin Henry's eyebrows shot up, and he suddenly became very interested in his hand, rearranging the cards at random. Parker closed her eyes, hand going to her heart, while Peyton loudly sighed and shook her head.

Not rising to the bait, Coop remarked neutrally, "That's a shame. I'm sorry to hear."

"Is what it is," Chris returned with a shrug. Without another word, he took his beer and orbed to the living room couch. That way he didn't have to pass through the conservatory where everyone was fawning over the banes of his existence.

Resting his head back, he closed his eyes and took another long drink. He wished he had something stronger. As it was, he finished the bottle in short order. Without hesitation, he put the empty bottle on the coffee table and orbed himself another to avoid the crowd in the kitchen. Telekinetically flinging off the cap, he leaned back again and had half of it gone in a few chugs.

"Starting kinda early."

He opened his eyes to find Melinda sitting on the coffee table across from him, brown eyes fixed on him with concern. Sighing, he replied, "Not gonna get the chance often anymore. Figured there's plenty of people here to look after the twins, so why not?"

"Because eventually you'll have to go home and be sober enough to take care of them," Melinda pointed out.

"Mel, it's one beer. Chill."

"That's your second." She pointed to the empty bottle resting on the table next to her. "Before supper no less."

He leaned forward, glaring at her. "And? Who are you - the alcohol police? I'm well past legal age, and two beers is not going to get me anywhere near drunk. Back the fuck off."

Melinda recoiled at his tone, hurt flashing on her face. "You've never cussed at me before. Not when I crashed your first motorcycle. Or when I interrupted your big night with Sidney. Not even when I accidentally got us trapped in that nest of Yozi demons, and you got poisoned."

"I'm tired," Chris defended. "I just wanted fifteen minutes to myself, and I'm getting grilled about it from my baby sister."

"I missed the signs of you drowning once before," she told him. "I'm not letting you sink this time. You're my brother, and I love you. Talk to me. This is about the twins isn't it?"

Finishing off the bottle, he slammed it down onto the table before levelling a hard look at his sibling. "They're fine. I'm fine. Drop it."

"No."

"Mel," he warned, "you're my little sister, and I have loved you since the day you were born, but so help me, you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. I get it. You feel guilty because you didn't figure out my big dark secret, so now, you're chasing shadows. I had two beers and dared to swear. Oh, the horror."

Melinda folded her arms with an expression eerily similar to how their mother looked before things started exploding. "I know you better than that, Chris. You're deflecting like crazy, and it's not going to work with me."

"Um, Chris?" PJ called from the conservatory. His cousin appeared in the doorway a moment later, holding Victoria. "I'm sorry, but something kinda weird happened with the baby."

Silently swearing, he stiffly rose from the sofa and turned to his cousin. "What do you mean weird? That covers a lot of ground in this family."

"Her eyes sort of, um, orbed?" PJ answered, sounding unsure. "We were alone. Kat and Tam took Matthew upstairs to be changed while everyone else went to finish supper and set the table. Anyway, her eyes looked like two clouds of orbs before going back to normal. Then, almost simultaneously, a demon showed up and Wyatt orbed in and vanquished it. Only, he said he didn't orb. He said he _was_ orbed, which I believe because he wasn't, er, totally dressed. He went to get pants on, but he'll tell you when he gets back."

Chris wondered if two beers really had made him drunk because that story made no sense. He folded his arms, tilted his head and blinked through a frown. Several times. After a few minutes, all he could come up with was, "Huh?"

A swirling vortex of light formed into Wyatt, hair dripping wet but dressed in a sweater and jeans. He immediately locked in on Chris. "Your daughter orbed me out of the shower. To kill a demon for her."

"She's barely a month old," Chris refuted. "You're saying she had a vision about a demon attack and orbed you here to rescue her? Seriously? She doesn't even know who you are, Wyatt."

"She knows I've been taking care of her since the day she was born," Wyatt challenged. "She feels safe with me, so she orbed me here to protect her. Her father was in the next room, but she orbed _me_ , Chris. I've kept my mouth shut so far, but no more. You need to step up."

PJ crossed to Mel, handing over the baby. "I'm gonna . . ." She jerked her thumb to the doorway and snuck out.

"Unbelievable," Chris hotly remarked. "Your niece dared to inconvenience you, so I'm a crap father, right? God, do I feel loved tonight. Mel thinks I'm a drunk, and you think I'm a deadbeat. Awesome."

Wyatt shot a look to their sister. "What's he talking about?"

"He was hiding in here downing beer like water."

Chris threw his hands up. "Two. I had two freaking beers. What is the big deal?"

"The big deal is you're running away," Melinda answered. "Maybe not physically but in every other way. You never hold them longer than you absolutely have to. Wyatt and I have been taking care of them when you don't drop them off at the daycare at Magic School. Now, you're hiding in here drinking."

Wyatt put in, "We love you, Kit, and we are more than willing to help out, but at the end of the day, Matthew and Victoria are yours. They need _you_ , not us. Mel has college to finish, and I love them, but I don't want to be their parent. I want to be their uncle."

"You wanted to do this," Melinda reminded. "The brother I have looked up to my whole life would never run away from a decision he made just because it got hard. You chose this path, Chris."

"Well, I chose wrong!"

Chris dropped his head as soon as the words exploded out of him. He couldn't bear to see his big brother's disappointed face. The horrified shock sure to be in his little sister's eyes. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he closed his eyes and waited for one of them to say something. Only a new voice broke the silence.

"What is going on in here?" Piper questioned, tone sharp with worry.

Looking up, Chris found his mother, father and aunts had all come running. His mother's gaze kept switching between her children, sharp with scrutiny. When they landed on him, they softened, and somehow, it made him feel even worse.

"Chris has been avoiding the twins," Melinda bluntly tattled. "He's struggling and instead of saying he needs help, he's taken to hiding from his problems any way he can. Tonight, it's drowning them in beer."

Chris edged his sister a dirty look but dropped his eyes when Wyatt countered it with a sharply disapproving one that reminded Chris far too much of a version of his brother who'd once tried to kill him.

"Sweetie," Piper addressed her middle child, "is that true? Are you having regrets about keeping the twins?"

At her sweetly gentle tone, Chris couldn't help but look up. Seeing the love and worry in his mother's eyes, his own started stinging. He wanted to pretend to be six again and throw himself in her arms and let her make everything okay. Instead, the weight of his shame pushed his head back down.

"Chris," Tamora called down the stairs, "Matthew did something kinda weird."

Chris put his head in his hands and started laughing. It wasn't a pleasant sound, but he couldn't seem to stop. Somehow his life had become a disturbing sitcom where all the jokes were on him. He was only vaguely aware of Paige taking Matthew from Tam, telling her to head into the kitchen and start eating.

"How did he . . .?" Paige's voice drifted off.

"Shape shifter," Leo answered. "Like Lamia."

At that, Chris stopped laughing and looked up at his son. His mouth fell open as he saw the baby was currently blond with brown eyes. Tilting his head he realized exactly who his son had been imitating. "He wants to be Wyatt. Great."

Piper fixed knowing eyes on him. "Chris, you have been avoiding them, haven't you?" When he didn't answer, she erased the distance between them and caught his chin like when he'd been little and evading her questions on who broke the window. "Chris, look at me."

"I don't think I can do this," he quietly admitted. "All I see are my rapist's children, and every day, I resent them more."

Phoebe moved next to Piper. There wasn't an ounce of sympathy or judgment on her face. Her voice was soothing though. "Sweetie, you can't keep holding everything in all the time. It's not healthy. You need to be able to share how you're really feeling with someone. Whether it be someone in the family or . . . a professional."

"A shrink?" He scoffed. "No way."

"What you've been through," Phoebe went on, "it's not something you can pretend didn't happen or ignore. Especially now when these two beautiful, sweet children need you."

Chris shook his head. "You were right before, Aunt Phoebe. They are a constant reminder of the worst part of my life. I never should have done this."

"I was wrong," Phoebe countered. "I thought these babies would have a darkness in them, but they are so full of light and innocence. So full of _you_. Sweetie, if you let yourself see it, I know you would find a place for them in your heart."

Turning his head away, Chris muttered, "I doubt it."

Without warning, Melinda shoved Victoria in his arms. Locking eyes with her brother she informed him, "This little girl may have that monster's eyes, but her heart is all you. Did you notice whenever Matthew is upset lately, she orbs to him? Already, family is everything to her just like it is to you. One look in her eyes would show you that the color is the only similarity."

"I can't," Chris argued, furiously shaking his head and trying to hand the baby back to Melinda. "I just can't."

Leo stepped forward, encouraging, "You can do this, Son. You are one of the toughest men I have ever known. Full of fire and determination like every Halliwell before you. You're also a father now. That means putting your kids first. A lesson _you_ taught me a long time ago."

Chris flashed to a cave. His father was under him, face bruised and bloodied. He was pounding his fists into the man's face over and over screaming how the man didn't know him. There was so much rage, but under it was pain. Hurt at feeling unworthy - abandoned - by his own father. He heard his own voice from another life miserably remark, "You were never there for me."

Despite a lifetime of memories with Leo present and attentive, the sting from a life where the man had forgotten he existed was very real to Chris. The part of him belonging to his other version was furious at the very notion of bailing on the twins. Of giving up on family. It brought new meaning to the concept of self-loathing.

Gathering strength from his other self and taking a deep breath, he forced himself to look at his daughter. Really look. She was beautiful. Perfectly pink with delicate features. Her eyes were startling in a way he hadn't anticipated. The color was Lamia's but the soul underneath was the most innocent, trusting, loving essence he'd ever seen. For years after this moment, Chris would swear his daughter smiled at him, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Paige came over with Matthew. She softly directed to the baby, "Okay, little man, _this_ is your daddy. Can you show him some love? He needs to feel it right about now. What do you say? Change back?"

The baby blinked, and to Chris' surprise, Matthew's soft tufts of hair returned to the chestnut color they normally were, but instead of vague navy, his eyes turned a familiar sage. They locked on Chris as if seeking his approval.

Paige grinned. "Chip off the old block, huh? It's like the little guy has an old soul. You can kinda see it in his eyes - sharp intelligence - like he knows things a baby shouldn't. You had the exact same look. Were always studying everything like you were trying to piece it all out all at once. I've, uh, noticed a certain stubborn streak too, which seems a little bit familiar if I do say so."

Chris looked down at his son, forcing himself to meet the newborn's strangely focused gaze. Paige was right. There was something in the little boy's eyes. It was heavy with a burden of knowledge and craving for affection Chris understood all too well.

Not able to control his hand, the little boy's flailing limb somehow managed to grab Chris' arm, and the tiny gesture, accidental though it had to be, did something to the young father. It touched more than his skin, burying deeper to a place in his heart, which was finally starting to open to the idea that maybe, just maybe, it had room for these two in it after all.

Gaze switching between his children, he did not feel love . . . but it was a start.

000

Chris felt Wyatt staring at the back of his head. He decided to take another sip of coffee before beginning round . . . at least seven. Or was it eight? He'd lost track at this point. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to change his mind no matter how many times Wyatt tried to talk him out of it.

He shot a smile over to Victoria, who was playing on the floor, making excited sounds as she accidentally hit a ball on her playmat, which lit up and sung "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star". He addressed his daughter, "I think Uncle Wyatt is having a hard time with the idea of not seeing you everyday."

Matthew whined in the crook of his arm, asleep but uncomfortable.

"I know, I know," Chris told his son with a light jiggle to settle him again. "Your uncle will miss you too, Kiddo. Didn't mean to leave you out."

"Chris, why are you doing this?" Wyatt tiredly questioned. "This is your home. The only home the twins have ever known. Why uproot them when you don't have to? I like having you all here with me."

Chris sighed. Rising, he carefully settled Matthew into a swing, fastening him in and turning it on low. He then scooped up his daughter from the floor and moved toward the kitchen to get her a bottle with the hopes of getting her down for a nap next. As he reached in the cupboard for the formula he threw over his shoulder, "It's a two bedroom apartment, Wy. I can't exactly have them sleeping in my room forever."

"Okay, so we get a bigger place together."

"And that wouldn't be uprooting them?" Chris tossed back. He finished mixing the bottle and putting it in the warmer before turning to his brother. "Also, you haven't had a woman over since the twins were born. It's not right."

Wyatt folded his arms and challenged, "You haven't exactly been Mr. Social yourself, Kit."

"It's kinda pointless when I can't be with the one woman I want."

"And why can't you?"

"His name is Adam," Chris bitterly replied. "She met him a few weeks ago. He's an artist who sold her some sculptures for the gallery and also happens to be a witch with the power of deflection. He's all sophisticated and sensitive and _British_."

The older brother hummed understanding. "And you hate him. For daring to date a perfectly single woman _you_ dumped months ago?"

Chris dropped his gaze to his daughter to avoid looking at his brother. He smiled softly as the little girl gurgled happily up at him, but still couldn't keep the regret out of his voice. "I couldn't be who she needed."

"All she needs is you, Kit."

He sighed. "Yeah, well, now she has Adam."

Wyatt shook his head. "You're being needlessly stubborn. If you told Bianca you still loved her, that you wanted to be with her, she'd run back into your arms so fast it'd make your head spin. I would give anything for a woman to love me half as much as she loves you."

"It helps if you, you know, date them," Chris threw back with a grin. Grabbing the bottle from the warmer, he took the opportunity to change the subject. "Which is my whole point on why I need to move out. You deserve a chance to live your life. Be single. Fool around. Find your soulmate. Whatever it is you want to do."

"I can't imagine not having them here," Wyatt admitted. "I love giving them their bottles and holding them as they drift to sleep. Watching them learn new things every day. I don't want you to go."

Testing the milk on his wrist, the younger brother determined it acceptable. He gave the bottle to his daughter, who started sucking furiously. "I have loved living with you, Wy, but it's time for me to stand on my own. I talked it over with Dr. Mickelson during our last session, and he agrees it would be a good step for me."

"Have I told you lately how proud I am of you?" Wyatt asked with a smile. "Three months ago, you couldn't even look at the twins, and now, you're great with them. I've noticed you haven't been having nightmares for a while either."

Putting Victoria up on a shoulder to burp her, Chris nodded. "I always thought Aunt Pheebs' psycho babble varied between obnoxious and silly, but talking through everything with a stranger, especially one who gets the magic stuff, it's like . . . freeing? I can be honest, and Dr. Mickelson has helped me sort through a lot. I still have issues, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel, you know?"

"And he really thinks you moving out is what's best?"

Chris didn't get the chance to answer as a warlock blinked behind his son, athame arching down at the sleeping baby. Panic like nothing he'd ever felt before flooded him at the image. Dropping the bottle, he flung out his hand intending to toss the intruder into a wall, but something strange happened. Bolts of lightning zapped through the warlock before his arms and legs were torn off his body, which exploded followed by the soaring appendages.

Matthew, woken from his nap by the pyrotechnics, started crying.

Without hesitation, Chris hurried across the room to kneel in front of his son. Using one hand, he unhooked the swing, and pulled Matthew into his free shoulder. He stood, bouncing his children to calm both startled babies. "You're okay. You're both okay. Daddy's got you."

Wyatt, who had rushed over to check on his nephew, finding everything okay then stared at the scorch mark on the carpet and wall. "That looked like a strange cross between your electrokinesis and mom's molecular acceleration. What happened?"

"A warlock came after my kid," Chris snapped. "I got pissed." He kissed each of their heads, holding them tighter to assure they really were okay as his heart still pounded fast and hard in his chest. "Shit, Wyatt, I have never been so scared in my life."

"Well, what do you know . . ."

"What?"

His older brother smiled warmly. "I think it's finally happened, Kit."

"What has?"

Wyatt softly informed, "You fell in love with your kids."

Chris blinked in surprise before slowly lowering his head to look at the infants in his arms. Already Matthew wiggled closer, burying his face in Chris' neck as he drifted back to sleep, trusting he was safe. Victoria was adorably trying to get the fabric of his t-shirt into her mouth to chew on it since her bottle had been interrupted and teething was driving her nuts.

Smiling down on them, a warmth spread through Chris from head to toe. It was the most wonderful, terrifying emotion he'd ever experienced. An emotion so consuming and powerful he couldn't even imagine it existed needless to say he'd ever feel it. These silly, beautiful, frustrating, innocent, exhausting, loving little miracles were his.

And he loved them.

TBC . . .

Wow, getting to the end! Next chapters will see some more time jumps as Chris raises the little ones and maaaaaybe finds his way back to a certain Phoenix . . . ;)


	18. Win Some, Lose Some

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Your continued support is amazing and made me write a really long chapter :) Warning: Graphic sex in this one.

Chapter 18

One year ago today someone who had devastated Chris' life, forever blotting it with darkness, had died. It was the same day two lives entered his that had cast rays of light into that darkness, cutting through pain and despair with innocence and unconditional love. A love he returned more and more every day. That brought clarity to words his father had spoken so long ago. Indescribable suffering had led to incomparable joy.

Which might have been the reason he'd gone a little over the top for the twins' first birthday . . .

Too excited to wait, he'd let them open their present from him this morning, which really resulted in him opening it for them as they weren't grasping the concept. It had been a small plastic slide going into a mini ball pit. On one side there was even a zig-zag of ledges with holes where they could put the balls down and watch them fall into the pit at the bottom. It hadn't been cheap and took up quite a bit of his living room, but watching those two play with it, hearing their tiny giggles, was worth it.

Also taking up space in his modest townhome were all the decorations and food for the big party this afternoon. Streamers and balloons crowded the rest of the living room. A banner hung off the island in the kitchen while appetizers smothered the top. The kitchen table had two large frames showcasing pictures of both Victoria and Matthew that Melinda had taken every month, showing how they'd gone from newborns to toddlers in the blink of an eye. Next to the frames was Matthew's birthday cake - chocolate fudge shaped like the number one with marshmallow fondant dyed his son's favorite color, green.

Currently, Chris was working on the second birthday cake. It was vanilla bean with pink sprinkles mixed in the batter and would have a purple buttercream frosting as his daughter had already shown a love for the color. He was in the middle of carving off the right third of the sheet cake to position that section under the bottom to create a one shape when a shimmer in the air drew his eyes up.

Bianca, holding two small square packages, eyed the space with raised eyebrows. When she turned to Chris, she had a teasing smile. "Overcompensating?"

"Funny," he drawled. "I already have one shrink. I don't need another thanks."

Matthew wobbled his way over to Bianca holding a tiny red plastic ball. He held it up to her with a big smile, garbling something which may have been the word 'ball'.

"Hi, Cutie," she greeted, squatting down to kiss his cheek. She took the offered ball, giving the little boy a brilliant smile. "Thank you." When he shakily walked away, holding his hands out like a tiny zombie for balance, she laughed. "I can't believe they're walking already. They're getting so big."

As if to prove the point, Victoria crawled her way up the stairs of the slide, got herself seated and scooched her way forward until she slid down with a shriek of delight. Happily slapping the balls in the shallow pit at the bottom, she babbled up at Bianca as though confident she was making perfect sense.

"Good job, Vicki," Bianca praised. "You show your brother how it's done."

"Don't promote the rivalry," Chris whined. "He turned her stuffed bunny into a dump truck last night. She sent him to Wyatt's apartment in revenge and somehow managed to block him and Wyatt from orbing back, so I had to drive over there. Not cool."

Lightly laughing, she set her gifts on the table and moved into the kitchen, swiping one of the spinach artichoke frittata cups from the island. After she'd finished it, she tilted her head, pointing at the cake. "Correct me if I'm hallucinating, but wasn't there already one of those on the kitchen table?"

"That's Matthew's. This one is Victoria's."

"You realize they won't actually remember this party, right?"

Chris countered, "I will. Besides, they already have to share their birthday, so I'm not going to make them share a cake too. Matthew loves chocolate, but Victoria won't touch it. Plus, Mel's coming so there will be a ridiculous amount of photographic evidence available, which they can use against me when they're older if I screw this up."

Bianca smiled softly. "You're a really good dad, Chris. You've got nothing to prove."

"I kinda do," he argued as he started frosting the cake. "The first few months were not pretty. The things I said about them and how I kept pawning them off was terrible. I wasted so much time letting myself drown in all the bad stuff. Wish I could get a do-over, you know? Get that time with them back when they were so small."

"Nothing worse than wasting time," Bianca agreed. She lowered her eyes, letting out a breath heavy with emotion. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she stared unseeingly at the hummus dip.

Chris set the spatula in the frosting bowl. Folding his arms, he frowned. "What's going on, Bianca? The party doesn't start for half an hour, and outside of working together on a few magical cases, you and I haven't exactly spent much time together since you started dating Adam."

"It's easier that way," Bianca softly replied. When she looked up at him, her brown eyes were drowning in a love and sadness she normally kept masterfully buried. "You know how I feel about you, Chris. Being around you . . ." Her eyes dropped with her voice. "It hurts."

He nodded, sighing. "I know. Me too."

Bianca shook her head, looking back up at him with frustration. "Then why are we doing this? Why are we pretending like we don't belong together? You love me. I love you. Hell, everytime I'm with the twins they worm a little deeper into my heart too."

"Don't do this . . . please."

"Chris, you regret wasting time with the twins because you focused on the bad," she argued. "Can't you see that's what you're doing with us? Letting one moment define our entire relationship?"

He carried the bowl over to the sink, filling it with warm water. That done, he gripped the edge, dropping his head between his shoulders. Taking a few breaths, he finally answered, "It's not one moment. It's every moment. Every second I'm with you, all I can think about is picking you up, pressing you against the nearest flat surface and showing you exactly how passionate I am about you. How much I love you. Only I _can't_."

"Chris . . ."

He glanced back at her over his shoulder. "Bianca, that moment was one of the worst of a whole string of terrible moments in my life. Instead of letting my girlfriend, who I love like crazy, go down on me, I ended up attacking you. The look on your face as I freaked out haunts me. I can't take you looking at me that way ever again. I have never felt like less of a man than in that moment."

"It was a long time ago," Bianca challenged. "You've come so far."

Turning around, he shook his head. "No matter how many sessions I have with Dr. Mickelson, I can't jump that hurdle. Everytime we try to tackle my feelings about sex, thinking about it sends me into a panic attack. Nothing has changed, and honestly, I don't know if it ever will."

Bianca blurted, "I don't need sex. I need you."

Chris leaned back against the counter, folding his arms while shooting her a knowing look. "As both your former fiance last go around and former boyfriend this time, I am easily the leading expert on all things Bianca Bishop. Firstly, physical contact is how you feel loved - you trust it more than words. Secondly, as much as it kills me, I know you love Adam, so no, you don't need me."

Wincing, Bianca dropped her head. Her voice sounded strained as she confessed, "I can't love him the way I love you. That's why I'm here."

He tilted his head, studying her torn expression. "Something happened."

"He proposed last night."

The words popped Chris' lungs like a needle. There was a painful burst in his chest followed by a slow leak of air out his mouth. He numbly nodded. Mechanically, he grabbed Victoria's cake and carried it over to the table.

"Give me a reason to say no," Bianca half-begged. "Tell me there is hope. Not today. Not even next month or next year. Give me one shred of hope you'll be with me _someday_ , and I'll turn him down."

Chris closed his eyes. His heart cracked. "You should accept."

"Chris, please . . ."

"Be happy, Bianca." The crack widened to a painful chasm. "It's all I want for you."

There was what might have been a choked sob behind him. When he turned around, Bianca was gone. Staring at the spot where she'd been standing, the back of his eyes burned. He rubbed his chest trying to get the hurt to go away, but it didn't work. Knowing he was doing the right thing by letting her go, giving her a chance at a healthy, loving relationship, didn't stop his heart from shattering.

"Da?"

Looking down, Chris found Victoria standing in front of him holding up a bright yellow plastic ball. Her violet eyes were softly locked on his face as though she somehow understood he was hurting. In her childish mind, a ball would surely make it all better. He smiled, swooping her into his arms, kissing her cheek. "Thank you, Sweet Girl."

There was an uncharacteristic quiet, which Chris had learned usually meant his children were doing something they shouldn't. Immediately scanning the area for his son, Chris didn't have to look far before he spotted the one year old. Matthew had orbed the cake down from the table and was currently cramming fistfuls of it into his face, the chocolate smearing all over his chubby cheeks.

"Matthew," Chris drew out, aiming at chastising but ending up closer to laughing.

The little boy smiled brightly holding up two fistfuls as though saying he was willing to share. The offer was immediately accepted by his sister who orbed to his side and started squishing the cake between her fingers while squealing in glee. It in turn made her brother laugh, and before long, they were both elbow deep in cake.

At the sight of a smashed up birthday cake and the two happy toddlers playfully demolishing it, the young father shook his head, not able to fight the wide smile spreading. Desperately wanting a distraction, he decided to roll with it. Getting on his knees next to his children, Chris was immediately bombarded by tiny fistfuls of cake heading toward his mouth. While some made it in after playful snaps of his teeth to make the twins giggle, the rest ended up smeared everywhere. Then, in a not terribly grown-up move, Chris taught his children what a food fight was.

Soon all of them, along with a good portion of the carpet, were covered in cake remnants. Chris ended the fight by tickling his children into submission, laughing right along with them until all three were breathless on the floor. With Matthew and Victoria lying close together, Chris was easily able to kiss the top of both their heads at once, which was when a light flashed and blinded him.

The picture Melinda had captured in that moment would be one of his favorites for the rest of his life. Any time he looked at it, he was reminded of one very important fact: No matter what he lost in life, he had two angels who loved him. And that? That meant everything.

000

Chris was only twenty-six, but he felt old. For starters, he spent his days frustrated with teenage shenanigans in his classroom, feeling more out of touch with his students all the time as they baffled him with their behavior, and made him wonder if he'd ever been that immature. Then, he came home to chase after toddlers, who had a knack for getting into exactly what they shouldn't. Whose favorite words were suddenly 'no' and 'don't'. Who threw themselves onto the floor and wailed at the slightest provocation. The terrible twos left him so tired most days he was in bed by nine.

Which was why he wasn't thrilled to be sitting in a very loud, very crowded club at nearly midnight. Only Wyatt had insisted. Said he missed his wingman. That Chris was young and single and should try to mingle with people his own age once in a blue moon.

The younger brother wasn't stupid enough to believe any of that. While parts of it were true, it wasn't the real reason Wyatt had drug him out. The real reason was to get Chris' mind off the fact Bianca had gotten married to someone else today. How eight hours ago, the love of his life had promised herself to another man. How they were probably celebrating in each other's arms right this second.

Working on his fourth Tom Collins, Chris could admit he wasn't taking it well. Wanting Bianca to be happy was one thing but officially losing her forever felt very different. Like a hole had been ripped through his chest. So, here he sat. Drinking and watching Wyatt dance with a woman he was pretty sure had been in the picture with his brother in the future. Though, he couldn't be completely certain as he was already feeling more than a little tipsy.

"Hi, there."

Glancing up, Chris found a woman with short blonde hair, pixie like features and wide baby blue eyes smiling down at him. As she was wearing a tight, short green dress leaving not much to the imagination, his mind instantly nicknamed her Tinkerbell. "Hey."

"What would you say to a dance?"

Even with his alcohol fuzzied brain, he could recognize the look in her eyes. It wasn't a dance Tinkerbell was after. Not really. He finished his drink as a way of buying time, trying to figure out exactly what he thought about that. Not panicked for once. Not particularly excited either. The alcohol made him warmly ambivalent.

Tinkerbell took a seat next to him close enough he felt her warmth through his white dress shirt. Her mouth was very near his ear, hot breath caressing it as she cajoled, "Come on. You look like you'd be a great dancer. Please?"

When her hand moved to his thigh, a jolt of desire ran through him. Seemed even if his mind wasn't sure about this prospect his body was. It was something anyway. Perhaps that's why before he was entirely aware of what he was doing, he put his empty glass on the table in front of him with the others, took her hand and tugged her to the dance floor.

Tinkerbell could dance. Winding her arms up in the air, swiveling her hips in perfect rhythm to the music, she moved like sensuous water. When she put her arms over his shoulders and started grinding against him in time to the beat, a little smirk of pleasure on her face, it sent his blood heading south.

Between alcohol and lust, Chris felt completely inebriated all of the sudden. It's why he didn't think twice about matching the swivel of her hips with his own. Why his hands ran down from her bare shoulders to land on her backside, pulling her closer.

By the time the song ended, they were both breathing heavily for reasons having nothing to do with fatigue. When she took his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom, he let her. In fact, when they entered the single stall room, Chris was the one who locked the door behind them. The one to brutally capture her mouth with his, pressing her hard against the cold tile wall.

Pulling his shirt free from his dress slacks, Tinkerbell started kissing her way up his abs to his chest before jumping to latch onto his throat. Leaving a hot, moist trail to his ear, she tugged on the lobe with her teeth. Then, her hands landed on his ass, squeezing it with a hum of approval.

Chris returned the favor, slipping his hands up her skirt and around. Nipping her throat, he kissed his way down to her collar bone while teasing the waist of her panties with a finger. Back and forth with a light touch that made her shakily inhale. Pulling his mouth from her chest, he yanked her panties down to her ankles. Then, as his hand slid up her inner thighs, he crushed her mouth with his, swallowing her jerky breaths.

Deft hands had his belt unhooked and pants undone in seconds. She didn't bother pulling them down, slipping a hand in the opening and running it over his pelvis. She inched, teasingly close, making him hum a whine before going under his briefs to jerk up and down his length. After only a few hard strokes, he was hard and moaning.

Not sure how much more he could take since it'd been so long, Chris captured her hands, pinning them above her head with one hand as he used the other to slip under her skirt. One finger first, teasing. When she whimpered, arching for more, he added two more, flicking her clit over and over. Pumping in and out of her wetness. Tinkerbell was writhing against the wall, panting and gasping in pleasure.

Her reaction to his ministrations was making him throb painfully, so he removed his fingers and spun her around. As he worked to get a condom out of his wallet, he noticed her brace herself against the wall, and the slight guilt he felt about not wanting to see her face as they screwed disappeared. They both knew what this was. So, while his hands massaged her breasts, fingertips teasing erect nipples, he entered her from behind pumping hard and fast.

It wasn't long before her hands clawed the wall, and she threw her head back. "Yes. Oh, fuck, yes. Harder. Faster. Shit! Yes!"

As she continued yelling out in pleasure, Chris realized how badly he needed this. Needed the exquisite ache of need and the ultimate rush of release. Needed to feel like a man again. And pushing himself in and out of this perfect stranger, having mindless, meaningless sex fit the bill.

Tinkerbell came first with a scream that might actually have managed to be heard over the music blaring in the club. Chris followed shortly after with a burst of heat and quiet grunt that left him drained in the best possible way.

Deed done, he pulled out panting. Taking care of the condom and washing up, he was redoing his pants when her finger started lightly tracing his ear, and he flinched at the unexpected contact. Edging her a look he flatly ordered, "Don't."

She pouted but obeyed, moving her hands behind her back and swaying. "That was incredible. Wanna do it again sometime?"

Chris thought about her question on a vastly different level than she meant it. He'd just had sex. No anxiety. No panic attacks. No flashbacks mentally or physically. In a lot of ways it was monumental. A huge breakthrough he'd never thought would come. But mostly, he realized, it had just been sex. An empty act between strangers. Nothing like he remembered experiencing with Bianca a lifetime ago. Worlds imploded when they'd been together.

"Yeah," he murmured softly. "Just not with you."

Then, without an explanation or even a backwards glance, he left Tinkerbell standing insulted in the middle of the bathroom.

000

 _Two years later . . ._

Sitting in a chair in his children's bedroom, Chris closed Charlotte's Web and set it on the dresser beside him. Rising, he crossed first to Matthew, who was rubbing his eyes, half asleep already. Tucking the blankets around the little boy, Chris kissed his forehead then moved to repeat the process with Victoria. Only after bestowing her with a kiss, he noticed her tiny face contained a frown.

"What's wrong, Sweet Girl?"

"Uncle Wyatt and Auntie Chloe are going to have a baby, right?"

Chris wasn't sure what had prompted the question, but some instinct made him nervous about where it was leading. He drew out, "Right."

"Where do babies come from?"

Looking down at her innocent face, Chris' flashed warm. He started rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "Well, uh, you see, when two people love each other they can make a baby. It stays in the mommy's tummy until it's big and strong enough to be born."

Victoria's eyes were fixed on the stuffed bunny she was holding. "So, everyone has a mommy?"

Throat thick and mouth dry, Chris struggled to answer, "Yeah..."

Violet eyes looked up at him with marked sadness and confusion. "Then where is our mommy?"

The shoe dropped like an anvil. Right on Chris' chest. He knew this day would come. Had discussed with Dr. Mickelson during one of their last sessions how he should talk to the twins about Lamia and even practiced a few times. Only faced with the moment, it all went out the window.

"Your mom-" A swirl of nausea made him pause. He hated remembering Lamia had any part in _his_ kids. For his daughter's sake, he forced himself to go on. "She got hurt when you were born, and she, uh, she died, Sweetie."

Matthew, now very much awake, wondered, "How come you don't talk about her?"

"It makes me sad," he honestly answered.

"Cause you miss her?" Victoria guessed.

He didn't want to lie, so he gave a thin smile and let them take from it what they would.

"Can you tell us about her?" Matthew requested. "Please?"

Chris sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Uh, well, she was a . . ." A sadistic bitch was the first thought to pop in Chris' mind. He bit his tongue as he tried to remember the answer he'd rehearsed for this moment. "She was actually a queen and a very gifted sorceress."

"Is that where I get my powers?" Matthew wondered.

"Shapeshifting and a few others," Chris confirmed. "You did get quite a bit from me though." He looked at his daughter. "You get your special visions from her."

Victoria softly, almost hopeful, asked, "Was she pretty?"

Nausea bubbled in his stomach as he pictured Lamia. "Yes. One of the most beautiful women to ever live." Not a lie. Horrifying to admit and completely superficial but not a lie. He pushed on, "You look a lot like her except you got my hair. Hers was red."

The little girl smiled. "Really?"

"Yup."

Matthew screwed up his face. There was a seriousness in his eyes that was all too recognizable as a trait he'd gotten from his father. After a long beat he asked, "Was she nice?"

Anxiety flashed through Chris. He promised himself a long time ago he would never lie to these two. Still, he couldn't tell them the whole truth. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Mind racing he wet his lips trying to come up with something to say that wasn't terrible. "She loved you two. In fact, you were all she wanted in the whole world. Said you were the best things she'd ever done."

The look on his son's face told Chris the dodge was not missed. He was grateful when the little boy didn't push the matter instead just looking far too contemplative for such a young child.

"How did you meet Mommy?" Victoria interrupted his thoughts.

"She picked me up at an art gallery." Picked up. Kidnapped. Semantics really.

Chris decided he'd let his daughter watch far too many fairytales when she dreamily wondered, "And it was true love at first sight?"

He'd never loved his sister more than when she popped her head in the door at just this precise moment. Seeing her niece and nephew still awake she smiled widely and hurriedly entered to give them hugs. "Hey you two. I thought I was going to miss saying goodnight."

"Whatcha doing here, Auntie Mel?" Matthew asked.

"Your dad has plans tonight, so I'm staying with you."

Chris shot his children warning looks. "This does not mean you try to sneak out of your beds or weedle her to stay up later. In fact, I've already let you stay up way too late as it is. So both of you heads down, eyes closed and have good dreams."

Once both children complied, he gestured for Melinda to exit with him. Crossing to the door, he paused at the threshold, looking back at them. "I love you both more than anything. I'll see you in the morning."

"Love you, Daddy." "Love you too."

With the flick of two fingers, he telekinetically shut off their table lamp. Then he closed the door behind him to find his sister quirking a brow at him. "What?"

"You realize you don't have to wait until they're in bed to go out," she remarked. "I can watch them when they're awake too."

"Bedtime is my favorite time of the day," he defended. "They're quiet and calm, and I love reading to them and tucking them in. It's not something I want to miss. Well, normally. Tonight I could've done without."

"Why? What happened tonight?"

"They wanted to know about their mom." He shoved his hands in his pockets, shaking his head. "I knew they'd have questions eventually, but I kinda hoped I'd have more time."

Melinda smiled softly. "How did it go?"

"Okay, I think." He shrugged. "You sort of saved me before they could ask too much. Though, knowing them, it's going to come up again. Especially with Wyatt and Chloe expecting. I think it's made them understand our family is different, you know?"

"Have you told them about Olivia yet?"

Chris shook his head. "I'm waiting to see how serious it gets. The last thing I want is for them to get attached, and then things don't work out."

"You've been dating for a few months now," Melinda pointed out. "I thought you really liked her, but you're making it sound like she's on the chopping block."

He lowered his eyes to the floor. "No, no. She's great. Funny, smart, beautiful. Great cook and loves kids. It's just . . ."

"She's not Bianca," Melinda supplied.

He nodded. "I let insecurity and fear push her out the door. Now, I have to live with that decision. She's gone, and she's not coming back. Last I heard, she and Adam had opened a gallery in London. By all accounts they're blissfully happy. Which, is good. That's what I wanted for her."

"She'd want you to be happy too."

The corner of his mouth twisted up. "Yeah. I know. Anyway, I should get going. I'm meeting Liv at the restaurant. If you need anything give a shout."

Melinda rolled her eyes. "We'll be fine. Go. Have fun. If you need me to crash here, just text me." Off his unamused look. "What? Last time you came in at one thirty with a collar covered in red stains. I know you weren't fighting lipstick wearing demons."

"Goodbye, Mel," he drawled, going up in orbs. As he swirled up out of the apartment, he heard her laughing her farewell.

Coalescing behind a dumpster in the alley behind Halliwell's, Chris strode around the corner to find Olivia looking stunning by the entrance. Long caramel color hair softly curled to cascade around her shoulders and a vibrant red dress that hugged her in all the right ways. When she saw him, her honey brown eyes lit up, and she gave him a warm smile.

Closing the distance between them, Chris put his hands on her waist, smiling down on her. "You look incredible."

"Glad you think so," she playfully returned. "That was kinda why I put in the effort."

"Then I better reward hard work, shouldn't I?" he remarked, slowly inching his mouth closer to hers.

She cupped his face with her hands, her smile widening as she teased, "If you know what's good for you, Halliwell."

As Chris gave Olivia a slow, affectionate kiss, he didn't notice someone come running around the corner of the alley. Didn't see her slide to an abrupt stop. Had no idea she had winced and turned her head away at the sight of him locked in an embrace. It wasn't until the woman took a deep breath and firmly said his name he looked up.

His mouth fell open. "Bianca?"

"Adam was murdered."

TBC . . .


	19. Bad Timing

So, you'll be pleased to know a couple of ideas popped into my head for this story, so it'll end up a little longer than I had originally thought. (Well, hopefully that pleases you if you've stuck around this far lol). As always I've been inspired by those wonderful folks who take the time to share their thoughts with me :) Thank you Talhulla, guest, sise87, Korzy potterwell and Naruto Loves FemKyuubi

Chapter 19

" _Adam was murdered."_

Chris couldn't process the statement for a second. Could barely believe Bianca was standing only a few feet away from him when he hadn't seen her in over three years. When he did finally snap back to the moment it was like a rubber band, and he shot forward without any ability to stop the movement. Had his hands on Bianca's shoulders and was staring into her soft brown eyes before any semblance of thought had formed. Was pulling her into a tight hug without question.

Bianca gently pushed him away, frowning inquisitively up at him for a moment before her gaze shifted to the confused woman behind them. When he only frowned down at her, she sighed. "I didn't know you were on a date."

Olivia. Shit. Chris turned to look over his shoulder and was both relieved and impressed to find his date was only looking on them with concern. He quickly stepped away from Bianca, hovering awkwardly between the two women. "Bianca, this is my girlfriend, Olivia. Liv, this is my oldest and dearest friend, Bianca. She's been out of the country the last few years. Adam was her husband."

Face falling to horrified sympathy, Olivia looked to Bianca. "I am so deeply sorry. That's awful." Turning to Chris she offered, "Let's raincheck. Your friend needs you."

"You sure?"

Olivia smiled, a perfect mix of teasing and sweet. "Yeah, you'll just owe me, Halliwell. I'm thinking two desserts next time."

"Deal."

Not thinking anything of it, Olivia closed the distance between them to give him a kiss goodbye. While normally he thoroughly enjoyed the feel of her warm, silky lips and how they always tasted like cherries, all he could think about was Bianca watching them. Chaste though the embrace was, it made him feel rotten to rub his romantic life in her nose. After he'd told her he'd never be ready for one. After her husband had just died.

When they parted, Chris' face was hot and probably flushed. Not from excitement but embarrassment and guilt. He purposefully kept his focus on Olivia, exchanging farewells and a promise to call. Watched his date sashay down the sidewalk toward the valet to get her car in order to give himself time to gather his wits before facing the true love he'd cast aside.

Turning around, he found Bianca had her arms folded, gaze cold and distant. Before he could say a word, she bitingly remarked, "Guess you got over your intimacy issues, huh?"

He winced. "Bianca-"

"Nevermind." She shook her head, glaring out at the street. "I didn't come here for a reunion. I came here to get the son of a bitch who murdered my husband. Will you help me or not?"

"Of course. You don't even have to ask." Glancing around at the people passing by on the street, some of whom were eavesdropping, he gestured with his head back toward the alley. "Let's go to my place where we can discuss this without the audience."

Bianca gestured for him to lead the way.

When they reached the alley, he checked for any passerbys. Finding none, he orbed knowing The Phoenix would easily be able to track his orb trail. When he reappeared in the living room of his townhome, he smiled tightly at his sister who was sitting on the sofa, head tilted and a quizzical expression on her face.

"Demon?" Melinda guessed.

He pointed a finger at her. "Do not make a big deal over what is about to happen."

Melinda opened her mouth only to shut it a second later as the air shimmered to form Bianca. His sister's mouth fell open, eyes widening, before she sucked her lips together and shifted her gaze to the wall. Chris didn't fail to notice her foot excitedly start bouncing or her lips fighting not to turn up into a smile.

"Melinda, hello," Bianca calmly greeted. "What are you . . .?" She waved off her own question. "The twins. Of course they'd need a sitter while their father was out gallivanting around with a floozy."

A hand flew to Melinda's mouth as her eyebrows flew north.

Chris shot Bianca a look. "Be mad at me all you want, but Olivia is not a floozy. She was also very cool with cancelling our date last second so I could help you. Chill."

"You're unbelievable." Bianca bitterly shook her head. "How long was it after you kicked me to the curb that you miraculously recovered from your fear of being touched? Days? Hours?"

He held up a hand. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Excuse me? Where do you get off? I took as much time as I needed to heal, and the process was none of your business considering you were _married_ at the time."

Melinda's brown eyes darted back and forth between them. "Should I . . .?"

"Adam wanted me," Bianca shot back. "He loved me. Gave me everything trying to make me happy all the while knowing I _wasn't_. Knowing this whole time I was in love with someone else."

"Oh boy." Melinda rose from the couch. "Yeah, I'm just gonna . . ."

Chris shoved his hands in his pockets, guilt and regret tightly twisting his stomach. "What do you want me to say, Bianca? I'm sorry? I am. I am incredibly sorry I hurt you. It was the last thing I wanted."

"I don't want your apology," she coldly returned. "I've had two lifetimes worth of them. What I want is your help vanquishing the warlock who took away my husband. He was a good man. I couldn't be what he wanted in life, so the least I can do is avenge him in death."

Melinda gasped. "Adam is dead? Oh my god, Bianca, I'm so sorry."

"Thank you."

"We will find the warlock, Bianca," Chris promised. "But if we're going to work together, maybe we need to clear the air first. I'm not doing this whole passive aggressive dance with you."

Bianca snorted. "How about we skip straight to aggressive then? You're an asshole. Powerful and clever, which I need right now, but a complete and total selfish asshole."

"On that note. . ." Melinda had reached the kitchen island, plucking her purse from the counter. Which was when she noticed two pairs of curious faces standing at the entrance to the living room. She very loudly announced, "Matthew, Victoria, what are you two doing up?"

Chris immediately whipped around to spot his children. He rushed to drop to a knee in front of them. "Guys, it's late. You should be in bed."

"What's an asshole?" Matthew innocently asked.

Before anyone could answer, Victoria gasped next to him, eyes disappearing in swirls of orbs. She would have toppled forward if not for her father's quick reflexes catching her. Her tiny hands fisted his shirt as she whimpered repeatedly.

Bianca's fury melted to concern. "What's wrong with her?"

Chris stroked his daughter's hair, holding her tight while gently rocking her. Only when the child went limp in his arms did he finally glance over to Bianca. "Lamia's visions were always very powerful due to her sorcery, but after she was cursed, they got twisted. She actually had to remove her eyes to have them. It was extremely painful. Dad thinks part of the curse somehow slipped through to Victoria despite her elder blood. Her eyes orb to the moment she sees."

"Oh my god," Bianca breathed.

"It was only for seconds when she was a baby," Chris went on. "We didn't think much of it especially since Wyatt apparently used to orb his eyes to scare off Mom's dates. Except, the older she gets the longer the visions are, and they hurt her a lot. Phoebe's been trying to help her control them, but it's not working so far."

Matthew piped up, "I help though." As evidence, he took his sister's hand, and both children began to softly glow golden. When the light faded, he shot his father a proud smile. "Just like Uncle Wyatt taught me."

"You did good, Kiddo,' Chris affirmed.

Victoria stirred in his arms. A moment later she blinked confusedly up at Bianca. "Mommy? You look sad. Why were you and Daddy fighting?"

Bianca smiled awkwardly. "Uh, Sweetie, I'm not your mommy."

"She's just an old friend of mine," Chris clarified. "Remember, we talked about this earlier. Your mom died, Sweetie."

Violet eyes rolled upward in a way she'd learned from her father and grandmother. "I knooooow. She's not that mommy. She's our new mommy." The little girl smiled shyly at Bianca. "You looked really pretty in your white dress. So pretty Daddy even _cried_."

"Is she describing what I think she's describing?" Melinda pointed between her brother and his ex. "That you two . . ."

All the color drained from Chris' face. Swallowing to regain a semblance of control over his currently swirling emotions, he focused a forced smile on his daughter. "That sounds really nice, Victoria. What else did you see?"

"We all put different colored sand in a bowl and mixed it all up. You said we were a family and could never be sep-rated." Her little face scrunched up. "Then I saw lots of stuff. Mommy with us at the park. And when a bad man came she hurt him bunches and said to tell his friends no one tries to hurt her kids. All of us at the beach. Big me was crying and Mommy was holding me saying it wasn't my fault, and we didn't have to tell Daddy. I think that's all."

"I don't like the sound of the last bit," Chris murmured. He edged a look to Bianca to find her looking near panic. "Bianca?"

She shook her head. "No. I can't . . . it's . . . Adam _just_ died. I can't even . . ."

"Who's Adam?" Matthew asked in a yawn.

Chris sighed. "You two really need to get back to bed. Come on. Let's go." With a still weak Victoria in his arms, he rose and lightly nudged his son with a foot. "Go on. It's way, way past your bedtime."

"I'm not sleepy."

"Fibber."

Matthew wrinkled his nose. "I wanna talk to Mommy."

"She's not your mommy."

"But she's gonna be," the little boy argued. "Vicki's visions always come true."

"That's- I don't- we will talk about this in the morning."

Matthew pointed at his father. "Why is your face all red? You look funny."

Victoria giggled against her father's chest. "It's cause he loves her."

Having reached their room upstairs, Chris laid his daughter in her bed, pulling the blankets up around her. "I do not look funny. And love is a big word. It's a big, very grown up word that's complicated, and I . . . You know what? I am the parent here, okay? You two just keep your little noses out of this. Vision or no, the future is ours to decide. So, you close your eyes, you go to sleep, and we will talk about all of this in the morning."

Giving them each a quick kiss on the forehead, Chris shut their door behind him thinking the matter was over. He should have known his children better than that. Known how they were Halliwells to their core and couldn't leave anything alone. As he left to deal with Bianca, his children stayed up for the next hour quietly plotting.

Back downstairs, he found Melinda and Bianca softly talking over on the sofa. As soon as he appeared, his sister stood and gave him a sympathetic smile. She crossed over pulling him into a hug. She took the opportunity to whisper, "She's sad, guilty and angry. Give her time, Big Brother."

Pulling back, Chris nodded acknowledgement. Out loud, he told her, "Thanks for watching them tonight, Mel. I appreciate it. Let me know when you want me for that shoot, okay?"

"Will do." She waved at Bianca. "It was good seeing you again."

"You too." Once Melinda was gone, Bianca shot Chris a questioning look. "Shoot?"

Chris flushed, running a hand through his hair. "Uh, yeah. In exchange for services rendered, I now owe my sister a photoshoot. She needs a model for one of her projects. Not looking forward to it. It involves being shirtless, having slick hair, and wearing a masquerade mask that has peacock feathers."

"I could see you hating that, yeah."

Letting out a long breath, Chris took a seat next to Bianca on the sofa. "So, before we get to the warlock, can we talk? No angry sarcasm or bitter retorts. Honest talking between two people who once upon a time loved each other. Do you think that's possible?"

Bianca flipped her hair over a shoulder, shrugging. "What's there to talk about? The last time I saw you I made a fool of myself begging you to love me, and you told me to marry someone else. I lived the last years sharing a bed and a life with that wonderful man. Breaking his heart every day. The last words he said to me were that he couldn't do it anymore. He asked for a divorce."

"I . . ." Chris shook his head. "I don't know what to say, Bianca. I'm sorry."

She glared at him. "If you say that word one more time, I swear I will hit you so hard your head will fly off." Looking away with a sigh, she muttered, "This is all my fault anyway."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"That night . . . I pushed you," she confessed. "I missed you. So. Damn. Much. One night of allowing myself to feel it, and I ruined everything. I knew you weren't ready. I could tell you weren't doing it for the right reasons. You were trying to prove something to me or yourself. I should have stopped it. Only I didn't want to because I wanted it too much."

"I would have been furious," Chris pointed out. "I saw the look on your face - the doubt. It pissed me off. If you would've said something, I probably would have ended it anyway. Honestly . . . I think I was looking for an excuse."

Bianca's head whipped toward him with a mix of shock, hurt and anger.

Chris held up his hands. "Not because I didn't love you. Not because I didn't want to be with you either. I was scared, and I was living with all these cracks, and the weight of expectation was going to shatter me into too many pieces to ever put back together."

"Expectation?"

"You were the one," Chris said simply. "I knew it. You knew it. Even though you tried to hold back, tried to hide it, I felt how much you loved me. How you were pinning all these hopes on me. The moment we met I wasn't just some guy to you. I was your fiance returned from the dead. And it wasn't all you either. I was starting to remember our life together too. I could remember the intensity of being with you, and what we were doing was a shadow of that. I wasn't even close to what you expected. What you deserved."

Bianca crossed her arms, leaning back in the sofa. She said nothing a long time, staring at the floor across the room. Finally she took a deep breath and remarked, "Being with me was too much pressure."

Chris nodded. "After that night, all I kept thinking was how I would never measure up to what you remembered. How _he_ would never have freaked out. Kept flashing to all the times he made love to you, which made me feel that much more pathetic."

"Your issues seem resolved now."

"More or less," he hedged. "There are moments. They catch me off guard. I'll be perfectly fine for months then someone will brush against me, and suddenly, my body goes totally rigid on instinct. I'll be fooling around with my girlfriend, and she'll do something or I will, and I'll get this flash of a different place and time, and I can't breathe. Don't think it'll ever totally go away."

The Phoenix's eyes were locked on her feet. "Girlfriend. Right. So, it going well?"

"Olivia is nice," Chris drew out. Catching her gaze, he pointedly added, "She's not you, though."

Bianca closed her eyes. "Please, don't. Don't say things like that to me. Not now. Not when my husband just died. Not when I feel like a complete failure as a wife." She edged him a sad glance. "Not when you're dating someone else, who seems actually, sort of, you know, decent."

He grinned. "You hate her."

"So much."

Chris chuckled.

Bianca smiled softly. "You seem so different than the last time I saw you. Happy even. I'm glad."

"I am," he confirmed. "Nothing to do with any of the women I've dated though. Mostly, it was those two kids. They gave me a reason to get my act together. There is nothing like having these little people look at you with so much love and admiration. In their eyes, I am the strongest, smartest, coolest person on the planet - a hero. I will be damned if I don't live up to their opinion."

"I'm sure you will," Bianca offered. "Being a father seems to suit you somehow."

"And someday being a mother will suit you."

She glared at him. "Not funny. I spend five minutes with you, and your kids have me pegged as their new mother."

Chris held up his hands. "Hey, I didn't do it. Can I help it if The Fates decided to show Victoria our wedding?"

"Be serious," Bianca ordered. "Those kids cannot get the wrong idea about things. You and I . . . it's impossible. Everytime we try, it implodes. Now, after everything with Adam . . ." She shook her head. "I can't."

"Bianca, listen," he started, "joking aside, I don't think getting together right now is a good idea either. You need to mourn your marriage and your husband, and I need to figure out if I'm ready to be who you need, or if it's healthier for me to stay with Olivia, who is a fresh start."

Bianca took a breath, letting it out slowly. "So what do we do?"

"I propose we get back to being friends, and if something happens, it happens. What do you say?" He held out his hand. "Friends?"

She stared at his outstretched hand, dubious. Taking a breath, she grabbed it, giving it a shake. Then, she locked eyes with him. "Okay, Friend, we've got a warlock to hunt."

"I'll start the coffee."

000

It had been a late night. According to Bianca, she'd come home early from the gallery fully prepared to fight for her marriage. Was practicing the speech in her head about going to counseling and doing whatever it took to make things right when she opened the door and found Adam lying in a puddle of blood in the foyer. The warlock was standing over him with an athame dripping crimson. When she'd sent an energy ball at him, he deflected it back at her with Adam's power and blinked away.

According to Adam's whitelighter, the warlock's name was Cain, and he was the offspring of one of the most powerful warlocks of all time - Eames. Chris had nearly spit out his coffee upon hearing that. His mother had told him the story of that vanquish countless times as a boy. How he'd managed to trick them. How he'd stolen the power to orb, and she and her sisters had gone Up There to stop him. If Cain was half as clever, they were going to have their work cut out for them.

Researching well into the night, Chris managed to discover that along with Adam's deflection power, Cain also had stolen the ability to stop time and throw fire. He didn't see a pattern in the locations, witches or powers, but with more time, he was sure he'd find one. He was going to promise Bianca as much, but she'd fallen asleep on the couch. With a soft smile, he orbed her to the bed in his guest room. Then, he decided to get some rest himself, calling it a night.

The next morning, Chris woke to the sound of tiny voices whispering. Eyes popping open, he frowned. His children did not whisper. They banged cupboards and shouted and laughed and generally caused a raucous until he got up.

"How come you didn't tell Daddy you saw this part in your vision?"

"So we could surprise him."

Matthew sounded dubious, "Daddy doesn't like surprises."

"Shhh and conjure more, Matty," Victoria softly bossed. "It's gotta be magical."

"We're witches," he quietly grumbled back. "Everything is magical."

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Chris sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. With a quick stretch he was up and moving into the hallway. Plodding down the stairs he frowned as he heard more strange snippets between the twins.

"Makes my nose itch," Matthew whined.

"It's pretty."

"Think it'll work?"

Victoria dreamily replied, "It has to. It's just like the stories."

Reaching the edge of his living room, Chris stopped dead in his tracks, mouth tumbling open. Both hands ran through his hair as an awkward laugh escaped. Shaking his head, he muttered under his breath. "Bianca is going to kill me."

Orb lights danced on the ceiling. Rose petals blanketed the floor and all the furniture. The milk carton and two glasses were sitting on his coffee table along with two bowls of cereal and paper towels holding toast with jam. A small battery operated candle he used for jack-o-lanterns during Halloween was the breakfast centerpiece.

Victoria was bouncing with excitement. "Surprise!"

"You like it?" Matthew questioned.

Chris had no words. He stammered. A lot.

Victoria took his hand, pulling on it until he followed her over to the couch. She plucked a piece of paper off the table and handed it to him. "You gotta give this to Bianca. Girls like poems, Daddy."

Dazedly looking down at the paper in his hands, he found a giant heart in pink crayon with the words 'Rozes r red. Vilets r blu. I love u.' His first thought was he should keep working with Victoria on her spelling. The second thought was wondering if the many tiny red and blue blobs over the rest of the page was supposed to represent said roses and violets.

Looking up at the proud, beaming faces of his children, he let out a big breath. He had no idea how to explain this was not okay without crushing them. "Guys, this is . . . it was a nice thought, but Bianca is not my girlfriend and-"

"Cause she's mad at you," Victoria cut in. "That's why you gotta say sorry. So we helped." She gestured at the room and breakfast.

Matthew added, "Maybe if she isn't mad at you anymore we can have a mommy like everybody else."

Innocent truth ripped Chris' heart clear out of his chest. He dropped like a stone to the sofa. Gaze drifting between his children, he understood exactly why they'd done what they'd done. He took each of their hands with one of his. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt this way. I thought we were good, you know, just the three of us."

"You're the bestest daddy ever," Victoria assured, "but . . ." Her tiny shoulders went up and down. "Mommies are different. They smell nice and are soft and bake cookies and braid hair."

"I bake cookies for you guys all the time," Chris defended. "Okay, so not so much on the braiding hair thing, but I do a mean ponytail."

Matthew rolled his eyes. "That's not the point, Daddy. We want a mommy. Vicki saw Bianca is our new mommy, so we gotta make her love us, kay? Stop being diffy-cult."

It should have been funny to hear a frustrated statement he'd used on them be uttered in his son's tiny voice. Only there was nothing amusing about this situation. Nothing at all. Chris felt like he'd let them down. Like he hadn't provided everything they needed. Like he'd missed the ache inside his own children for more.

"Chris?" Bianca's confused voice floated from over by the doorway. "What is going on?"

Chris looked up to find his ex looking somewhere between amused and petrified. He dryly explained, "I apparently created a mini-clone of my Aunt Phoebe." He glanced to his daughter. "Someone is a hopeless romantic and roped her brother into helping her plot a breakfast date for us." He held up his hands. "I had nothing to do with it. I swear."

"Like it?" Victoria excitedly questioned.

Bianca's eyes were wide, smile exceptionally nervous, as she looked down at the little girl. "Uh, it's . . . pretty."

"I did all the orbs," the little girl proudly told her. "And poured cereal without spilling."

Matthew grabbed Bianca's hand and pulled her toward the sofa. "I made all the petals. And toast. Come sit by Daddy."

As Bianca took her seat next to Chris she edged him a questioning look, which he returned with a shrug. To his surprise, she actually smiled and shook her head in amusement. Seconds later her attention was drawn to the twins, who were bombarding her with questions. What was her favorite color? What was her job? What kind of cookies did she like? Did she know how to braid hair? What did she like to do for fun? And what seemed like a hundred more.

Chris studied her interaction with his children. Saw her patience and kindness. How she smiled at their enthusiasm and laughed at their jokes even when they really weren't funny. Witnessed her eat soggy cereal and make 'yummy' sounds for their benefit. Smiled as she started asking them questions about themselves and made a big deal out of what they told her. Recognized how quickly the twins were growing to adore her in just one morning.

Watching Bianca with his children, Chris knew Victoria's vision was going to come true. They were meant to be a family. He silently swore he would do whatever it took to make it happen. His children would get their mother, and he and Bianca would finally get the happily ever after they'd always wanted.

Now to convince Bianca of that . . .

TBC . . .


	20. Full Circle

Thanks bunches to MsDrea, sise87, Talhulla, Naruto Loves Femkyuubi, Korzy potterwell and Jennee77 for your reviews on the last chapter. They really do keep me working on this story in the midst of my chaotic schedule :) In other words: Can't do this without you!

Warning: Sexy times in this one. Welcome or warned as applicable.

Chapter 20

Pour in purified water. Count to thirty. Add two sacred thistles. The brown liquid bubbling in the pot on the stove emitted a purple puff of smoke, which made Victoria 'oooh'. Chris turned off the burner and removed the potion from the heat, continually stirring counterclockwise. Glancing down at his daughter, who was perched on a stool next to him, he gestured with his head toward the pot, and she tossed in a handful of pixie dust. The potion turned a shimmering amber color signaling it was complete.

Stomping into the kitchen, Matthew half tossed the potion vials he'd been sent to fetch onto the counter. He then folded his arms and all but glared at his father.

"Has throwing a temper tantrum _ever_ worked on me before?" Chris challenged with a sideways glance at his son. When the child stubbornly folded his arms and continued his heated stare, the young father sighed. "Kiddo, I know how you feel. I get it. I do. But you're a little boy. It is not your job to vanquish demons and warlocks. It's your job to play and have fun and work really hard on your studies both magical and not, so someday, when it _is_ your turn you'll be ready. Okay?"

Matthew narrowed his green eyes refuting, "I am not little."

Chris sucked in his lips to stop from smiling. Trying to look contrite, he amended, "You're absolutely right. I'm sorry. You're not little. I meant young."

Victoria had started using a dropper to put the potion in the vials. Most of the liquid made it inside the glass containers while the rest splattered on the counter, cabinets and floor. Luckily the potion wasn't acidic, or the kitchen would have been riddled with holes. As it was the light blue formica, oak cabinets and grey tile flooring were stained with golden spots. Victoria slid a glance at her father to see if he'd noticed, but he was concentrating on Matthew. Waving a hand, she orbed the spills along with the rest of the potion into the bottles.

"I saw that," Chris intoned, eyes still locked on Matthew.

His daughter smiled innocently and shrugged.

"You can't go after bad guys all by yourself," Matthew firmly stated. "Is Uncle Wyatt going?"

Leaning back against the counter, Chris folded his arms, trying very hard not to let old insecurities color his response. He knew his son didn't mean anything by the remark, but he hated anyone thinking he needed his big brother's help. He let out a breath. "No. Uncle Wyatt and Aunt Chloe are coming here to watch you guys while I'm gone. Remember? You're all having a sleepover this weekend?"

Victoria excitedly piped in, "Aunt Chloe said she would paint my nails. Pink even!"

"Oh yeah," Matthew murmured. "Uncle Wyatt was gonna bring video games."

"See, there ya go." Chris gestured with a hand. "It'll be fun."

As seemed to happen more the older the boy got, Matthew turned unusually serious. Looking far older and more world weary than a child should, he locked gazes with his father. His voice almost broke as he wondered, "What if something happens to you?"

The words reminded Chris of the time he'd been stabbed by Gideon. First was shock then a horrible burning pain in his gut that rendered him incapable of thought or breath for a minute. When the initial reaction faded, he sprang toward his son, squatting in front of the child. As the boy had bowed his head, Chris lifted his chin. "Hey, Matthew, look at me. Is that why you've been so upset about this trip? You think something is going to happen to me?"

When his son's eyes started shining, lip quivering, Chris had his answer.

"Daddy is super strong and smart," Victoria tried to reassure her brother, "nothing bad could ever beat him. Not ever."

Chris wanted to smile at her comment. He really did. Except it wasn't true. Someone had beaten him. Broken him. Nearly destroyed him beyond repair. And when he looked over his shoulder at his sweet little girl, he saw that person's eyes looking back at him. It curdled his stomach.

"Mommy died," Matthew burst out. "What if you do too?"

The fear in the boy's voice broke Chris' heart. What child so young worried about things like death? Thought about losing their parent? Most kids had no concept of loss. Thought their parents were immortal and invincible. He bitterly supposed his kids wouldn't be Halliwells if they didn't worry about losing their parent tragically. He prayed they never had to experience the actual loss as he had once.

"I promise I won't let that happen," a new voice answered.

Looking up, Chris found Bianca standing in the living room with a bag slung over one shoulder. The plan had been to meet her at the flat she'd shared with Adam. See if they could get any clues on their hunt for Cain. Somehow, he instinctively knew she'd been there only to find it too painful. The guilt too heavy. He knew she'd come here because being there alone was unbearable.

Bianca crossed over to Matthew, going down on one knee so their eyes were level. "I will be with your dad the whole time, and I am very good at protecting people."

A shadow flittered across her eyes, and Chris knew she was thinking of Adam. How she'd failed to protect him. He caught her gaze, silently conveying how it wasn't her fault. Not to blame herself. That they would avenge his death.

Pulling her eyes away from Chris, the former assassin smiled softly at the scared little boy. "Listen, Matthew, I know you don't know me very well, but I swear I would never, _ever_ let anything happen to your daddy. He's very special to me. Okay?"

"She loves Daddy," Victoria all but sang. "They're gonna get mar-ried."

When Bianca's cheeks went pink, Chris shot a look at his daughter. "Stop it."

Victoria batted her violet eyes at him with an innocent smile. "But I saw it, Daddy, and Auntie Phoebe always says our visions happen for a reason. Sides, nothing can happen to you on your trip if you have to marry Bianca later. Right?"

"Uh, well, I guess that's a good point." Chris turned to his son. "Make sense to you, Bud? I can't die this weekend because I have to marry Bianca in the future."

"Chris," Bianca drew out in aggravation.

He shrugged at her at the same time Matthew determined, "Yeah, I think so."

"Feel better then?" Chris checked.

Matthew gave him a half smile and a nod that sent his chestnut bangs skittering over his eyes. Meanwhile, Bianca's mouth turned hard as she openly glared at her ex.

A column of orb lights appeared in the living room swirling into Wyatt and a heavily pregnant blonde who stood at his shoulder, violet-blue eyes wide as her hand flew up to her mouth. Lurching slightly, she dropped the bag she'd been holding and darted down the hall toward the bathroom. The sound of retching and a splash followed.

"Poor Auntie Chloe," Victoria remarked, wrinkling her nose.

Matthew made a face, sticking out his tongue. "Yuck."

Wyatt sighed. "I thought morning sickness was supposed to end with the first trimester?"

"Not necessarily," Chris replied. "I remember Mom was the same way with me during her second trimester."

"Yeah, that's weird even for our family, Kit."

Bianca frowned at the younger brother. "How much do you remember about your other life now?"

"Everything." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Came back bit by bit until one day I just sort of had it all back."

With a mischievous glint to his eyes, Wyatt prodded, "Tell her about when I lost my powers."

Chris gave his sibling a dirty look. "It's not funny."

"What happened?" Bianca wondered. "How did you lose your powers, and why on earth would it be funny?"

"He thinks it's funny because we ended up having to go to the past to sort it all out," Chris answered, "and everyone back there assumed I was _him_. Weren't surprised or teary at seeing me alive and well. They all just assumed I'd grow up into him so there was no one to mourn, I guess. My own mother's only question to me was if I remembered where Grandpa's old apartment was. Never crossed her mind that if I didn't remember coming to the past the first time it'd be a weird thing to ask me."

Bianca studied Wyatt's growing smile before turning a knowing look to Chris. "You played along, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "I didn't know what else to do. They sort of had a lot on their plates already. Telling them I remembered but wasn't the Chris they knew seemed like needlessly complicating the situation."

Understanding where Wyatt's amusement was coming from now, Bianca smirked. "So, basically, you were mad at your family all those years because they assumed you were him, but they assumed you were him because you went to the past and basically played that part for them. Way to shoot yourself in the foot. Seriously. Well done."

"Told ya, Kit." Wyatt gave his little brother's back a solid pat. "You only had yourself to blame."

Chris glared at them both. "Yeah, yeah. Irony. It's hilarious."

Chloe emerged looking pale, one hand skimming the wall for balance. However, when her husband moved to try to help her, she levelled a warning look that stopped him dead in his tracks. "Wyatt Matthew Halliwell, so help me if you touch me I will hurt you. You touching me is why I'm in this situation." She gestured sharply at her protruding stomach.

"How come?" Victoria innocently wondered. "How did Uncle Wyatt get the baby in there?"

Chris' eyebrows shot up to his hairline. In an attempt to change the subject, he gestured to Bianca. "Chloe, this is my old friend, Bianca. The one I'm helping with the warlock."

Chloe extended a hand. "Hey. Nice to meet you. Wyatt's told me all about you. I'm Chloe, as you just heard. I'm a therapist and an empath, which makes me pretty much the nosiest person on the planet just to warn you." She slid a knowing look to her brother-in-law. "Which is probably why a certain someone has not mentioned you until now."

"Nice to meet you too," Bianca returned, grinning as she caught Chris' flush out of the corner of her eye. Focusing on Chloe again, she added, "And congrats."

"Thanks. We're equal parts excited and terrified."

Putting down the bag he'd brought, Wyatt hurried to scoop his niece and nephew into his arms, swinging them back and forth to make them laugh. "After these two I am ready for anything. I can't wait to be a father."

Bianca smiled warmly. "You'll be excellent. I've no doubt." She shot a look to Chris. "Are you ready? We should go soon. I got a few leads we should check out tonight while they're still hot."

As Wyatt set the twins down, Chris kneeled in front of them. "Okay, guys, be good for your aunt and uncle. Do whatever they ask with no whining. Bedtime is when they say it is not after you've tried to negotiate for twenty minutes. No magic unless to protect yourselves, deal?"

"Deal." "Okay, Daddy."

He pulled them into a tight embrace. "I love you both so much."

"Love you too, Daddy," they both returned.

The idea of leaving them suddenly twisted his stomach, and he was loathe to do it. He owed Bianca though. She'd given up so much for him. Been there for him during the darkest period of his life. He had to go. So, he kissed the top of each of their heads then stood and went for his bag, already packed and sitting on the kitchen table. Throwing the potions in it that he and Victoria had made earlier, he was ready.

"If you need help . . ." Wyatt offered.

"Wy, believe me, you've got the harder job this weekend. I can handle a lousy warlock." He grinned. "Besides, you need the practice, _Dad_."

The Twice Blessed smiled at the title with the same goofy-euphoric expression he always got when Mel or Chris teased him with it. A look that was so very much their father it was scary.

"Don't worry about the twins," Chloe reassured, "we're going to have a blast."

"I really appreciate you guys doing this for me," Chris thanked. "If you need anything, I'll have my cell, or you can give a shout, and I'll orb straight back. At the latest, I'll be back Sunday night. Matthew's been having nightmares, but if you tell him a story about a vanquish he goes back to sleep right away. Victoria can't sleep without that silly bunny of mine, so make sure you always know where it is. Neither of them will eat sandwiches unless you cut them diagonally. Make sure they wash their hands with soap. For some reason, they sometimes just get their hands wet and-"

Wyatt held up his hands. "Kit. We've watched them before. It'll be fine. Go."

Letting out a deep breath, Chris glanced at his children who were waving goodbye as though they couldn't wait for him to leave, so they could have fun. It panged his heart even though he knew it was healthy and normal. He turned to Bianca. "Ok. Lead the way."

As she shimmered away, he gave one last smile and wave to the twins then immediately went up in orbs after her. There was no time to waste. They had one weekend to catch Cain. Let the hunt begin.

000

Cavern torches flickered in the darkness like the pulse of a heartbeat. The smell of blood and mold permeated the air in gag-inducing thickness. Shrill screams of death bounced off the walls followed by a burst of fire. One after another the pale, yellow skinned horn demons known as Undani fled or were vanquished until only their leader remained.

Despite the chieftain being a mammoth creature, Bianca easily flipped him onto the cold stone of the ceremonial table resting in the back of the cave. Her athame was at his throat in a flash. Voice low and cold, she demanded, "Tell me where he is."

The demon spat in her face. "You don't have the power to vanquish me, _Girl_."

"Maybe not," Chris stepped out of the shadows, towering over the trapped demon, "but I do. Long time no see, Bendactu."

The demon started cursing profusely, wriggling under Bianca's hold. She pushed the athame into his throat hard enough blood seeped out. He went still, eyes wide as they locked on the witchlighter.

Chris leisurely paced back and forth in front of the table, arms folded. "You know, Bendactu, I kept the Charmed Ones off your tail – away from your clan – for nearly two years. Even vanquished that nasty rival of yours, Zimtar, so you could become chieftain. Remember the deal we made? What I said would happen to you if you ever broke it?"

"I remember," he hissed. "I had hoped you would not. You died."

"Most of the people in my family do once or twice," Chris calmly returned. "Point is our deal still stands as long as I do. You know Cain is after revenge on my family. The fact you aided him is a violation of our accord, and if you don't make it right, I'll let The Phoenix use that dagger to peel off your skin while I come up with a nice couplet that'll send you straight to the wasteland."

As though verifying Chris' threat, Bianca flicked her wrist causing a chunk of flesh to fly off the demon's shoulder. When he screamed, she rammed the handle of the athame into his throat hard enough to choke his voice.

"Where is Cain?" Chris darkly questioned. "You have ten seconds before I let her carve you."

"I don't know," Bendactu rasped, "but I can tell you what he spoke of."

"Do it."

Green sweat pilled on the demon's yellow forehead. "He spoke of Cole Turner. Of Halliwell weakness being family. That it was the key. Then, he . . . he talked about you. Called you . . ."

"Called me what?"

"The Sorceress' whore."

Chris froze. Could feel the color draining from his face as an old sickness flooded his stomach. Images of himself in bed with Lamia flashed in his head, taunting him. His skin prickled with a shame he'd never fully shed.

"What did he say?" Bianca took over. "Be specific."

"These-these are his words not mine," Bendactu stuttered, eyeing the blade. "He said The Sorceress' whore would be the Halliwell family's undoing. Something about secrets coming to light. I didn't understand much of it."

Bianca pushed, "What else? Did he mention which powers he was after?"

"No. Only that . . ." Bendactu hesitated. "That when I saw the whore-" At the point of the dagger entering his flesh, he howled and corrected, "Chris. When I saw Chris. To pass along a message."

Shaken by ghosts of his past, Chris numbly questioned, "What message?"

"The power of two will destroy you."

000

Hours later, Chris was locked in his own head. Not able to shake the powerful dread that had taken residence in his gut, he kept running over Cain's message for him. What the hell did it mean? It was a violation of the phrase that granted his mother and sisters their ultimate power – a cruel taunt. Moreover, it felt like a challenge. Cain daring him to figure out which two witches' powers were needed to complete the master plan.

After scouring the Underworld for leads, questioning every single contact he and Bianca had, Bendactu was the first and only one with real information. After, Chris had insisted on checking over Bianca and Adam's flat for anything she may have overlooked in her grief. She had not come with, stating she'd already scoured the place and it was pointless. She'd gone to secure their lodging instead.

Chris pretended to believe the lie. Pretended not to see the heartache in her eyes at the mention of her dead husband. Pretended going through their home, seeing the life she'd made with another man, didn't kill him a little.

Aside from torturing himself at every indication of Bianca's entwined life with Adam – their toothbrushes setting together in the bathroom, countless photos of the couple, the bed they'd obviously still shared despite their problems – Chris accomplished nothing else at the flat. Cain had left no hints here as to his plan.

Sensing for Bianca, he orbed to her only to find she'd rented hotel rooms for the two of them. She said she'd stowed his things in the other room already then asked if he'd come across anything useful. When he said no, he could see the 'I told you so' in her eyes.

His phone rang, and without looking, he answered it expecting it to be Wyatt updating him on the twins. It was not Wyatt.

"I like to think I'm a pretty understanding woman, Chris, but where the hell are you?"

Olivia. Shit. He'd totally forgotten to cancel their date tonight. He winced and immediately turned his back to Bianca, moving toward his own room, speaking quietly. "I am a complete idiot. I am so sorry, Liv. Something came up, and I forgot to call."

Her voice was whispered but harsh. "I have been sitting at this freaking restaurant for an hour like a complete idiot. This is not okay, Chris." There was a pause before she finished, "When I called your place, Wyatt said you were with Bianca."

Damn it, Wyatt. "Uh, yeah, she needed my help." He ran a hand through his hair. "Uh, listen, I am really, truly sorry, but I can't really talk right now. Can I call you Sunday night?"

"I . . ." A sorrowful sigh. "Please, don't hurt me, Halliwell."

"Liv?"

"You love her, right?" His girlfriend's voice sounded strained. "Just tell me now. Tell me before I fall anymore for you than I already have. I mean, I'm not stupid. I saw how you reacted to seeing her. Now you're forgetting about me to be with her – and I'm not accusing you of anything just . . . I don't exist now she's back. All you see is her."

Chris closed his eyes. "Olivia, I really care about you."

"But you love her."

He couldn't deny it. He wouldn't insult her by trying. "I'm so sorry."

"Then that's that."

"Liv-"

"No hard feelings." He could hear she was struggling not to cry. "We had fun. See you around, Halliwell."

Before he could say a word, the call ended. Guilt stabbed him hard enough he almost threw his phone at the nearest wall but thought better of it the last second. When he turned around, he saw Bianca shaking her head at him with an unreadable expression. "What?"

"Did you do that on purpose?"

Frazzled from the day, Chris could only frown in confusion. When instead of explaining Bianca's eyes and mouth grew hard, he threw up his hands. "Whatever. I'm tired. I'm frustrated. I miss my kids. I'm going to bed to end this miserable night." He moved to exit through the door joining their two rooms.

"Chris, did you screw things up with that woman on purpose because you want me back?"

His hand paused on the knob. Spinning around slowly, he found Bianca as unyielding and unemotional as a statue. He let out a breath. "I didn't want to hurt Olivia. I had planned on breaking up with her tonight over dinner though. Let her down easy. What happened . . . I feel terrible. I honestly forgot about our plans."

"Why were you going to break up?" Bianca quietly questioned. "I thought you wanted to see if you were better off staying with her."

"Would've been unfair to her." He shoved his hands in his pockets with a shrug. "She wasn't wrong. The moment you came back into my life Olivia got pushed out of it. Not on purpose, but it still happened." He locked eyes with her. "There wasn't room for her when every part of me is filled with love for you."

Bianca winced, turning her head away. "Chris . . ."

"I get you're not ready," he went on. "After what Lamia did to me, you gave me time and space to heal while being supportive and amazing, and I don't think I would've gotten through those first weeks without you. Let me do that for you. Let me wait for you this time. And I will wait, Bianca, because we have another chance. Third time must be the charm, right?"

Her bottom lip got caught between her teeth. She still wouldn't look at him.

"I know we're meant to be a family, Bianca. You, me, the twins – we fit."

Brown eyes darted to his face, shining in the dim light of the hotel room. Then, with the skill her former life granted her, she hid her emotions under a mask, not permitting him to interpret what she was thinking or feeling as she crossed the room to stand in front of him.

The Phoenix had moved close enough Chris could feel her warmth. Could inhale the clean, rain scent off her skin. Long denied want for this woman flared hot and low inside him. It made his voice husky as he asked, "Bianca?"

"Tell me you know we're meant to be together," she instructed. "Tell me you love me."

His hand palmed the nape of her neck, thumb caressing her throat. "I know in my soul we are meant for each other, and I can't love anyone but you."

Eyes closing, she dropped her head. A burst of air escaped her lips, a strange mix of relief, joy and sorrow. When she looked up, the love she'd once carefully hidden from him was exposed in every feature. Intense and eternal. "Then show me."

Desire ran down his spine, setting his skin tingling. His hands buried themselves in her hair as he pulled her flush against him, mouth crashing into hers. Teeth running lightly over her full bottom lip, he moaned into her mouth at the wonderfully familiar taste of her.

Bianca's hands slid under his shirt, cool against his suddenly fevered skin. When she ran them along the contours of his stomach, the muscles clenched. When they went around to his back, a light nail ran up his spine in a way that sent shivers all through his body. Seconds later she somehow had his shirt on the floor. Fingers digging into his shoulder blades, her mouth escaped his to start a hot, moist trail down his chest.

Catching her face between his hands, Chris guided her mouth back to his. Tongue flicking over her lips, he smiled when she quickly granted it access. Kissing her deeply, he moved his hands to her butt and easily lifted her into his arms. The feel of her legs wrapping around his waist, the heat and friction of it made the need grow almost unbearable.

He carried her to the bed, positioning himself on top. Staring into the brown eyes he adored, he undid the bottons of her shirt, running a finger teasingly down her chest. Her breathing jerked with his every touch, chest rising and falling heavily. His gaze drifted to her breasts, smiled at the bright white bra against her olive skin. He teased her over the fabric, making her arch, and when she did he caught her throat with his mouth, sucking on the pulse point and eliciting a moan.

Skilled hands undid his pants in seconds. Had the jeans yanked off his person just as fast. Her eyes raked over him, hands roaming down his back to his ass. As she sucked on his ear lobe, she breathed, "I've missed this view like you wouldn't believe."

He grinned, slipping off her bra and dropping it to the floor. Gaze dipping to the exposed flesh, he returned, "Mine's better." To prove the point, he took one of the mounds in his mouth, swirling the tip of his tongue over a nipple until it was wonderfully hard and her body was rocking against him with need.

While her hands raked up and down his back, she caught his briefs with her toes and slid them off. Keeping her eyes locked on his face, she took hold of him. When he only closed his eyes and hummed appreciation, Bianca smiled and worked it with torturously wonderful skill. Up and down. Thumb teasing the tip. Faster and faster.

Once he was torturously hard, she pushed him to his back, sliding down his body until her mouth was able to replace her hand. She took him whole, tongue swirling in a way to drive him mad, and he gasped in pleasure. "Oh, Bianca. Oh. Oh, holy shit." His hands fisted the sheet as another wave of ecstasy rolled over him.

Tangling his hands in her hair he pulled her back up to his mouth before she finished things. He wanted this to be perfect. Rolling her onto her back, he quickly slid off her pants then teased her over her crisp white panties. Then under. When her hips started jerking up and she whimpered his name, he pulled off the undergarment and spread her legs. Then he tasted her. The sweet, musky, wonderful essence of the woman he loved more than life.

By the time he was done she was writhing, pillow over her face to smother the screams. The sound of her pleasure only served bring his to its peak. If he didn't enter her soon, he'd explode.

Hands at either side of her head, he locked eyes with her. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Then they were one. Moving in perfect sync having danced this way countless times before. Panting and gasping, they reveled in the sweaty heat of each other. In the love and passion of their joined bodies.

Bianca lightly bit his shoulder as she came with a spasm. Chris threw his head back as the burst of heat left him and stars exploded in his brain. They both collapsed onto the bed, tangled in each other's arms. Both more satisfied and happy then either had been in years.

Enjoying the closeness and warmth, neither spoke for a long while. Finally, Bianca rolled to face Chris, concern and guilt in her eyes. "Does this make me a terrible person?" She lowered her eyes to his bicep, working her lower lip. "A good person would still be mourning, right?"

"Everyone handles grief differently," Chris softly responded. "No one has the right to judge what you do with yours. How you decide to move on with your life. You weren't unfaithful."

Bianca sighed. "I feel like I betrayed him, though. Or his memory maybe."

Chris caught her chin in his hand. "Hey. Look at me." When she complied, he continued, "If he loved you, _really_ loved you, he'd want you to find comfort. Find love. Even if it was with someone else. I did."

She smiled softly, lovingly brushing his bangs from his face. After a minute, she wondered, "How do we want to handle this? What exactly are we now? We've dated, been engaged, broken up, and then dated again and broken up again. Where do we start?"

"It's not just us anymore," Chris began, "we need to consider Matthew and Victoria. While they may be all gung ho for a wedding and a mother, I know you well enough to know you're not there yet. I was surprised by what just happened actually. I thought it'd take me weeks or months to gain your trust back."

"Hearing you say you _knew_ we were meant to be together . . ." She shrugged. "That surety, that promise you'd love me always, it's all I've wanted for a really long time. It's like those words broke a dam inside me, and the flood wouldn't be denied."

Chris prodded, "But . . .?"

"The idea of being a mother terrifies me," she confessed. "I didn't exactly have the best role model. And I refuse to do anything to hurt your kids, Chris. They are sweet and funny and clever, and I've cared about them from the day they were born, but . . . I don't want to move too fast with them. They deserve for me to be sure."

"So, let's start there," Chris suggested. "We don't tell them about us, but we'll all spend time together like we've been doing, and when you're ready – if you're ready – you let me know."

Bianca smiled, nodding. "Yeah, okay. I think I can handle that." She sidled up flush against him, kissing him thoroughly.

Pain like the stab of a blade, cold and hot and terrible burst forth in Chris' chest. He cried out, face crumpling in agony. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. It felt like his heart was ripping to shreds. Because this wasn't his pain. It was his family's.

"Chris?" Bianca questioned in a panic. "Chris, are you having a panic attack? What's going on?"

Orbing his clothes back on, he turned tear flooded eyes to Bianca. "I have to go."

Without waiting for a response, he orbed home. When he arrived in the living room, the walls and ceiling were scorched black, every piece of furniture shattered or melted. The glass was all blown out, shards covering the floor. And Chloe who was terribly pale and still among it.

Chris ran to her side, immediately checking for a pulse. Finding one he let out a breath of relief. It was short lived as he spotted his brother on the other side of the room.

Buried under cabinets, Wyatt's face was burned, blood pouring from his nose. The leg and arm visible under the debris were bent at impossible angles. When Chris tried to sense his brother, there was barely any flicker of a life signature left. Chris' heart stuttered painfully. "No. No, no,no."

No sooner had he gotten to his feet than he heard Victoria crying. He raced up the stairs toward the sound, narrowly missing tripping on a broken step. The stairwell was as charred as the rest of his home, pictures fallen off the walls at his feet. He barely noticed. All thoughts were on his children.

Bursting into their bedroom, Chris lurched to a stop at the nightmare before him.

Matthew had an athame sticking out of his chest, his powers slowly being leached out of him. A long-faced man with black hair and dead eyes had a sobbing Victoria in his arms, stroking her face with the back of his hand and looking at the little girl in a way that made Chris' stomach churn violently.

Cain glanced up at his arrival. "Too late, _Dad._ Their gifts are mine."

Then Chris watched helplessly as the warlock blinked out with his children.

TBC . . .


	21. Time Discovers Truth

Thank you so much to all the wonderful reviewers for the last chapter: Korzy potterwell, Talhulla, Naruto Loves Femkyuubi, ann, MsDrea and gabyhyatt. You guys feed my muse, and she thanks you much!

 **WARNING:** This chapter has a little child abuse both physical and sexual in nature. If this will be too upsetting or potentially triggering, please, do not read the section starting with Victoria. You'll find out what happened in context later. You have been warned.

Chapter 21

Time played a cruel joke wherein it refused to continue forward, trapping Chris in a horror filled moment. No air entered or left his lungs, and his heart stuck mid-beat with a painful jerk. Eyes locked on the spot where the two people he loved most in the world had been taken, every limb went leaden and he collapsed to his knees.

The only part of him still capable of movement were his frantic thoughts. Looping around and around. Torturing him with possibilities. Like how there had been an athame plunged into his little boy's chest. Matthew could be dead. Scared and alone and in pain before ripped out of the world far too early. Victoria's fate might be worse. The way Cain touched her . . . looked at that sweet, innocent little girl . . .

Chris retched onto the carpet.

A shimmer rippled the air. Bianca's voice beat her body. "I cannot believe you up and left without a-" The words died as soon as she appeared and spotted the state of the house and its owner. Rushing to his side, she dropped to a knee and put a hand on his back. "Chris? Chris, what happened?"

Wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve, Chris took several shaky breaths. "Cain. He has the twins."

"Oh my god," Bianca breathed. "How the hell did he get past Wyatt?"

Wyatt. No. No, no, no, no. Mind flashing to the image of his brother trapped and broken, Chris orbed downstairs in a panic. Locking in on Wyatt's prone form under the cabinets, he rushed to his sibling's side, dropping to his knees. Through their bond, he could only barely feel a flicker of the usually powerful presence. Using two fingers he felt for a pulse, and his own stuttered when he didn't find one immediately. When he finally felt a beat, it was a faint flutter.

"Come on, Wyatt," Chris urged. "Don't do this to me. Please, hang on."

He held up his hands, trying to ignore how badly they were shaking. He willed his latent power to work. Begged the Elders just the once to grant him access to that part of himself. Nothing happened. Just like nothing had happened the day his mother had died. He squeezed his eyes shut against his other self's memory, growling, "Fuck. No. Not happening." He looked up at the ceiling screaming, "Paige! Paige, hurry!"

Bianca appeared a second later, taking in the room and zeroing in on Chloe, who was starting to rouse. The Phoenix rushed the pregnant woman's side as the blonde moaned and gasped in pain. "Hey, it's okay. You're going to be okay. Just don't move. You're hurt."

"The baby," Chloe rasped, violet-blue eyes shimmering with tears. "Something's wrong." She cried out clutching her stomach.

A swirl of blue light formed into Paige, whose mouth parted and honey brown eyes went wide at the sight of her younger nephew's home. When she spotted Wyatt, she inhaled sharply and for a second was frozen in shock. It wasn't often the Twice Blessed, King Arthur was injured. To see him near death was a first.

"Paige!" Chris snapped. "Get over here. I can't heal."

Jerking to attention, Paige ran to his side going to her knees and holding her hands out over Wyatt in one smooth motion. Almost instantly a golden glow flooded her palms, radiating healing over the dying man. The cuts disappeared, broken bones resetting, but he did not stir.

"What's wrong?" Chris frantically questioned. "Why is it taking so long?"

"I need more juice," Paige decided. She held out her hand to him. "Let me tap into your healing power."

He shook his head, looking at her as though she'd lost her mind. "What part of 'I can't heal' did you not get, Aunt Paige? I watched my mother die once because I couldn't, and I'll be damned if I watch my brother die too."

"It's inside you," Paige calmly returned. "Your dad used to tap into my ability all the time before I could do it myself. Now, give me your hand, Chris."

He obliged, holding his breath as his aunt closed her eyes and concentrated. A warmth pooled in his chest. Like sunshine kissing cool skin. Gentle. Welcome. Gloriously beautiful. The sensation ran down his arm, releasing through his palm into Paige causing her healing touch to grow brighter.

Wyatt opened his eyes with a gasp. They immediately fixed on his brother. "Kit, the kids. He was after the kids." He tried to sit up only to sway, winding up in Paige's arms.

"Slow down there, Tiger," Paige soothed, "we nearly lost you. It's gonna be a minute before you're back to normal."

Bianca was cradling Chloe in her arms, using pressure points on the woman's back and hips to try to ease her pain. As the blonde's face contorted in pain, tears staining her cheeks with a sob of fear and anguish, the Phoenix barked, "A little help here."

"Chloe," Wyatt breathed. He pushed away from his aunt, scrambling to get to his feet and to his wife's side. He half-fell in front of Chloe, hands reaching out with a quickly brightening golden light. Watching all the cuts and bruises vanish, Wyatt frowned when his wife continued whimpering in pain. "Chloe, what's wrong?"

She howled in agony, grabbing his hand and nearly crushing the bones.

"You may have healed her," Bianca conjectured, "but I don't think whitelighters can stop labor."

The most powerful witch to ever live looked terrified. Color gone from his slack-jawed face, he helplessly shook his head. "No. It's too soon. The baby is too little. This can't . . . we have to do something."

"Yeah," Paige agreed, "you have to get her to a hospital, Wyatt. See if they can stop the labor."

"And if they can't?"

Chris put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "She'll be okay, Wyatt. When I projected into the future, you had your daughter in your arms in the picture on my wall. My niece is going to be fine, but you need to go. You hear me?"

"What about _my_ niece?" Wyatt shot back. "My nephew. I was supposed to protect them. Only, Cain froze Chloe, and when I tried to fight him, he deflected everything. When he went for the twins' room, I tried to blast him, but he sent it back at me and must have knocked me out. Please, tell me he didn't get them. That you showed up and stopped him. Tell me the twins are okay."

The younger brother dropped his head with a wince. "Cain took them . . . Matthew is hurt or maybe . . ." He couldn't say the word. "I need to find them before it's too late."

"Oh, God, Kit," Wyatt's blue eyes shone with moisture. "I'm so sorry. I'll help you. I'll make this right."

Chris shook his head. "No. Go be with Chloe and the baby. Bianca can help me."

"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" Paige questioned, hands going to her hips. "I used to be, you know, sort of a super witch myself. In fact, I have an idea on how you can find the twins. A twist on the blood to blood spell. If you reverse the phrasing instead of summoning them to you-"

"I can send myself to them," Chris finished. "Aunt Paige, that's brilliant."

She gave a one shouldered shrug of acknowledgment.

Looking stricken, Wyatt wondered, "Then what? Chris, if he can deflect my powers, he can deflect yours too. Freeze you then kill you. Cain is too powerful. I should go with you."

"He won't be too powerful when I strip his powers," Bianca argued. "Chris just needs to distract him long enough for me to do it. Now, for the last time, take your wife to the hospital, Wyatt. We've got this."

When Chloe cried out again, Wyatt looked brokenly between his brother and wife. Gaze landing on Chris, he opened his mouth only to close it with a heavy breath as Chris gave a firm nod toward Chloe. Swallowing thickly, Wyatt picked up his wife, and with one last regretful, guilty look to his brother, orbed away.

"Paige," Chris directed, "go get my parents and take them to the hospital. Wy's going to be a mess."

"But what about-"

"I can do the spell," Chris assured. "Then, Bianca and I are going to make Cain pay."

000

Victoria Halliwell was her father's daughter. Resourceful. Strong. Brave. With a heart for family above all else. Which was why she was doing everything she could to distract the bad man from her brother. Even when it meant the bad man would run his finger down her face and throat in a way that made her tummy feel funny.

"So much like your mother," the warlock breathed against her face.

His breath smelled like fish. She crinkled her nose.

Gasping, brow soaked in sweat, Matthew croaked from the floor, "You . . . you knew our mom?"

Cain smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. He turned away from Victoria, walking slowly back to Matthew's shivering form. He squatted, tilting his head as he regarded her brother. "Oh, yes, your mother and I were quite . . . close. Such power and beauty. Such a terrible, wicked woman. Another demon of her perfection shall never walk the earth again I'm afraid."

"D-demon?" Matthew broke into a coughing fit. Blood spattered his chin, and he whimpered in pain.

The warlock ran a finger up and down the athame protruding from the boy's chest, breathing deeply as blue energy ran up the handle and into him. He let out an appreciative moan as he siphoned the boy's powers. "I can feel her magic in you, Boy. Dark and delightful. It's why I'm savoring this transfer. Like sucking on rich chocolate to make it last longer."

"Sh-she was . . . was a s-sorceress," Matthew weakly argued. "N-not a d-demon. Liar."

Cain laughed. "Is that what your feeble father has been telling you? If so, he's the liar, Boy. Your mother was far more than a sorceress. She was the mother of monsters." He leaned down to whisper in Matthew's ear. "Guess what that makes you."

As her brother's green eyes filled with tears, either of pain or sadness, Victoria felt a terrible heat fill her little body. Blood seemed to boil and bubble. Organs roasted. Skin seared. She had to release it. There was no choice. If she didn't, she'd burn from the inside out. Letting out a shaky breath, a red mist escaped her lips and drifted over to Cain, who flashed with the color.

The warlock rose to his feet. Turning, he mechanically walked back to Victoria. There was a cloudiness in his dark brown eyes as he gazed down on the girl. His hands ran down her throat, shoulders and continued down.

When the bad man's hands reached the section her Daddy said was a private no-show, no-touch zone, Victoria's eyes filled with tears. Her stomach didn't feel good. Then the bad man put his mouth on hers and did strange things, and all she could do was whimper in protest. She was scared. Really, really scared.

"No!" Matthew screamed. With the last bit of strength he had, he conjured an athame directly into Cain's back. Then with a gasp the boy's head lolled and the dark of unconsciousness claimed him.

Cain roared back, reaching around and yanking out the blade. He tossed it to the ground and marched over to the boy, kicking him square in the ribs hard enough the child rolled to his side. More blue energy drifted up the dagger and Cain breathed it deeply. With a sadistic smirk down at the dying boy, he put a hand over his own back and a healing glow closed the wound. He then turned a predatory eye to Victoria.

Little heart racing, Victoria couldn't see through the tears in her violet eyes. She felt like she did the time she ate all her Halloween candy at once and threw up. Only worse. She sobbed, "No... stop."

To her shock, the bad man did. With a puzzled frown, Cain froze mid-step. "What the devil . . .?"

Victoria took in a shaky breath, blinking away as much of the moisture as she could. Matthew didn't look good. She had to save him. Family came first. Always. Daddy said so. Swallowing the icky climbing up her throat, she set to work trying to figure out how to get out of the chains and to her brother.

"You bewitched me," Cain growled. "Undo it. Now. Or I swear I'll make our time together as painful as possible, Girl."

She didn't know what he meant, but she didn't think it was good. He was a very, very bad man. Even worse than most warlocks and demons. She had to get Matthew away from him. She pulled her chains tight and tried to yank her hand out of the cuff. Wriggling a wrist until it was raw, she finally managed to squeeze it through.

The warlock gritted his teeth and, as though fighting through a freeze, forced his feet to move reluctantly forward. "Not as powerful as your mother yet. You can't hold me."

With a hiss, Victoria jerked her other wrist out with a snap. Tears of pain raced down her face, but she forced herself not to think about it. Not to look down at her wrists that hurt so bad. She had to get to Matthew. She could orb them out of here. Away from the bad man and back to Daddy.

Racing toward her brother, Victoria had nearly reached him when she was caught around the waist and violently hurled to the ground. She tried to orb, but Cain pinned her down, covering her mouth with his rough hand. She tried to bite him, kicking and thrashing.

Cain grabbed a fistful of her chestnut hair and pulled hard. He then moved his mouth to her ear, breath hot against it as he warned, "This didn't have to be as bad as it will be now."

Just as the man's mouth landed on her throat, he went hurtling into the far wall like a rag doll. The cavern wall shook, dust flying up at the impact.

"Get the fuck away from my daughter you perverted son of a bitch."

Victoria let out a breath of relief at seeing her daddy. Then she frowned because he'd said two bad words. One really, really bad word. Daddy never said bad words. He also looked kinda scary. His eyes were super dark and his face was mad in a way she'd never seen before. She was so shocked to see her gentle, silly Daddy that way she froze in place.

Whipping out a hand to send the monster careening into a wall and pinning him there, her daddy was staring at the bad man when he yelled over his shoulder at her. "Victoria, get your brother to magic school! Now!"

Blinking back to attention, she scurried on hands and knees to Matthew. Every movement sent a sharp zap of pain through her broken wrist and up her arm. She didn't stop. Didn't slow. Reaching Matthew, she grabbed the handle of the dagger with trembling hands. Sucking in her lips, she pulled out the dagger. As blood bubbled out, she gagged and had to keep blinking really fast. No time to cry right now. She had to help Matthew. Gently placing a hand on her brother's shoulder, a bolt of fear ran through her at how sweaty his shirt was and how cold he felt to the touch. She pushed it down. What she felt didn't matter. She had to save Matty. She orbed.

When they appeared in the Great Hall, Victoria got to her feet and ran down the corridor screaming for help as loudly as she could. Spotting her teacher, Mrs. Winterbourne, the girl grabbed the old witch's hand and nearly drug her back to the Great Hall.

At the sight of Matthew, Mrs. Winterbourne's face got really white. Her voice sounded strange as she assured, "It's going to be all right. No one can die in Magic School. We'll find a whitelighter or an elder. Matthew is going to be just fine, Dear. I promise."

At the promise her brother was going to be okay, everything Victoria had been holding in crashed over her head like a wave. Sobbing, she threw herself at the teacher, clinging to her for dear life. She cried until, like her brother, she had no recourse but to pass out.

000

Warlock. Monster. Neither word was sufficient to describe Cain. For a being who would stab an innocent boy, abuse a little girl, Chris didn't think there was a term vile enough. A punishment suitable enough. Though, he sure as hell planned on trying to dole one out.

With Cain pinned against the wall unable to raise his hands to deflect Chris' powers, the witchlighter used the leverage to telekinetically break every finger on the warlock's right hand one at a time. Slowly. As the monster screamed with each crack, Chris felt nothing. The image of this _thing_ on his child kept him from having an ounce of remorse in torturing him to death.

"You think you can stop me?" Cain rasped. "You're pathetic. A plaything just like your daughter will be."

Fire flared in Chris' veins and with a shout of rage, he swiped his arm through the air shooting Cain into another wall hard enough pieces of the ceiling tumbled down. Looking at the crumpled warlock, he was filled with a bloodlust he'd never had before. He squeezed his hand closed watching as the monster desperately clutched his chest.

Then suddenly with a slight blur, Cain transformed into Lamia. Her flame red hair. The violet eyes that would haunt him to his dying day. In the demoness' voice, Cain taunted, "Hello, Young One."

Panic shot down Chris' spine. He involuntarily took a step back, his telekentic hold dropped with his broken concentration. Logically, he knew it was still Cain. That the man had stolen the ability to shapeshift from Matthew. That it was a trick to manipulate him. It didn't stop his breath sticking in his throat. Didn't stop his heart from pounding his ribs. Didn't stop the horrible sensation of her touch from making his skin crawl and stomach churn.

Cain rose from the floor and damn if he didn't move just like Lamia. Leisurely. Seductively. In complete control. The warlock stopped in front of him, running a finger down the side of Chris' face, throat and pausing to trace patterns on his chest just like Lamia used to.

Chris squeezed his eyes shut as anxiety swept through him. _It's not her. It's not real. Oh God it feels real. It feels so fucking real. Like she's back. She's back and she's going to make me . . ._

Images flashed in his mind. Lamia's legs wrapped around his waist, her claws raking through his back as he pumped inside her, and they climaxed together. His head between her legs. Her fangs in his throat sucking him until he passed out. _Shit, shit, shit, shit._

"You were a good little whore," Cain taunted. "So willing. So obedient." The warlock moved his mouth to Chris' ear, breath hot. "You know you miss me. You wanted me. Loved me even. After all, I gave you everything."

Suddenly, Cain lurched, mouth falling open and eyes going wide as he gasped in pain. He looked over his shoulder to find Bianca with her fist in his back, the blue energy he'd devoured pouring into her arm slowly leaving him powerless.

"Chris," Bianca barked, "say the damn spell."

Chris couldn't breathe. It was a full panic attack the likes of which he hadn't suffered in years. His ribs felt like they were closing in on him, heart ricocheting between them painfully. His mind was too full of horrible memory to think. To regain control of itself.

"Say the spell," Bianca repeated. "For your kids, Chris. Say the spell for Matthew and Victoria."

At the mention of his children, strength and conviction returned to Chris like a zap of lightning. Anger burned hot on his skin and seared his stomach lining as he remembered what the monster had done and wanted to do to his kids.

"Not yet," Chris lowly stated, "first he suffers." With the squeeze of a hand, he shattered the warlock's right arm making the monster scream out. "For Adam." Using a come gesture with his finger repeatedly, he telekinetically ripped off each of the monster's fingernails one at a time, earning a howl of agony after each nail tore free from nerve bundles. "For Matthew."

By now Bianca had finished siphoning away Cain's powers, and dropped the man to the floor returned to his true form. Quaking violently, tears of pain ran down his thin, very pale face.

It wasn't enough.

Chris moved to tower over the warlock, looking down on Cain with the purest hatred he'd ever felt. Twisting a hand, he watched unfeeling as the man grabbed his genitals and howled. "You put your filthy fucking hands and mouth on my daughter. Now? Now you get to live the last few seconds of your miserable life as a eunuch."

When the man nearly passed out, Bianca reached down to grab a fistful of his hair, pulling him up to his knees. "Oh no, you don't get to miss a minute of this you sick jackass."

The warlock couldn't form words, only garbled sounds escaping out his mouth.

"Time for amends," Chris began reciting, "and a victim's revenge. Freezing power turned sour. Power to change turned too strange. I'm rejectin' your deflection."

Bianca released the monster as flames licked his body. As he tumbled forward, he burst into flame until he was nothing but ash on the air.

"May you finally rest in peace, Adam," Bianca murmured. Taking a deep breath, grieving for her husband for a moment, she then flicked her brown eyes to Chris' green. Quietly, already knowing the answer, she asked, "Are you all right?"

Chris' eyes grew a telling shine. Swallowing hard, he shook his head. When Bianca moved to comfort him, he took a step back, holding up his hands. "Not now. I don't . . . don't touch me for a while."

Immediately stopping to grant the distance he desired, she nodded, mouth forming a thin line of worry. Knowing this man better than anyone, she said nothing. Watching and waiting and worrying instead.

Five minutes passed. Finally, Chris' old mask went back up. The stoic expression he'd worn nearly every day when they'd fought against Wyatt. He straightened and folded his arms. Not a hint of weakness anywhere to be found. Voice purposefully and tightly controlled, he finally spoke again. "I need to get to Magic School. Could you go to the hospital and find out what's going on with the baby?"

"Chris . . ." It was obvious she wanted to object. That she didn't want to leave him. Still, she closed her mouth with a sigh and nodded. Locking eyes with him she promised, "Once I get an update I will meet you at Magic School."

He nodded.

Only after Bianca had shimmered out of the cavern did Chris allow the mask to slip again for a second. Hanging his head, he fisted his hair, pulling hard. He felt shaky and sick. Though, contrary to what Bianca thought, it had nothing to do with him. No, he'd conquered his demons the day he let himself love the twins. It was them he feared for. Their terrified little faces he couldn't get out of his head right now. And one thought plagued him on a vicious loop.

What if the damage Cain had done to Matthew and Victoria was the kind that couldn't be healed?

000

Matthew had been moved to the Headmaster's Office where a soft couch sat against the wall, which was where the boy hovering between life and death was lying. The only thing keeping the child part of this world was the magic of the school, preventing Death from claiming him.

When Chris orbed into the office Mrs. Winterbourne was sitting in a chair with Victoria on her lap. The little girl was asleep in the old teacher's arms. The old witch whispered, "This one cried herself to sleep. That one needs healing, but I haven't been able to get a whitelighter or elder down here yet."

Chris' heart hurt. His little girl was not okay. God only knows what Cain had done to her before he got there. What he saw was bad enough. What if that monster had . . . No. He couldn't go there. She was asleep now, so that was a blessing. He'd let her sleep. Focus on his son first.

Turning to squat next to the couch, the young father lovingly brushed sweat slicked bangs from the little boy's forehead. Matthew was clammy and pale as snow. Chris' stomach twisted hard. He'd almost lost his son today. He could still see the bloody wound from where the dagger had punctured his child's chest. In this moment, he could understand all the looks his own father had given him over the years. Terrified. Grateful. Like he was looking on an apparition. Or a miracle.

Chris lowered his head to his little boy's. Tears pricked the back of his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Matthew. I should've been there. I should've protected you. I love you so much, Kiddo. You and your sister are my world. I couldn't survive without you two."

A warmth pooled in his chest. The same blissful sensation he'd felt when Paige had channeled his healing ability earlier. Head jerking up, Chris stared open-mouthed as his hands softly glowed golden over his son. Tears did slip from the corner of his eyes. Tears of relief. Of joy. Of pure love.

Love enough to finally grant him access to the power to heal.

Wound vanished, pallor back to its normally sun-kissed tone, Matthew blinked thickly before opening his eyes. He locked in on his father but instead of excitement, relief, happiness or love there was hurt buried in the boy's green eyes. Anger.

"Matthew?" Chris questioned softly. "What's wrong?"

Chin quivering, the little boy said the one thing that would change all of their lives forever. "Our mom was a monster . . . and so are we."

TBC . . .


	22. The Truth Hurts

Thank you to Naruto Loves FemKyuubi and sise87 for sticking with me. I know the last chapter was pretty dark. This one might be the most emotionally draining I've ever written, but then I promise it will lighten up again. In any case, your continued support is all that got me through this tough chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Warning: In the scene with Victoria there will be references to what Cain did to her in the last chapter. If that is potentially upsetting, skip to the second to last paragraph and finish the chapter there. You've been warned.

Chapter 22

Chris never thought it possible he could hate anyone more than he hated Lamia. Lamia had tortured him mind, body and soul. Had stolen pieces of him bit by bit until he didn't recognize himself anymore. Thinking about her touch on his skin could still make his stomach knot and churn. The echo of her voice calling him 'Young One' would always send a cold shiver down his spine. And her possessive, lust filled violet gaze consumed his nightmares.

Yet, she was no longer the demon he most loathed. That honor now belonged to Cain.

In one evening a warlock had shattered Chris' life in a way far more painful than anything Lamia had ever done. At this point, Chris would have gladly endured having his molars yanked out again. Would have volunteered to be waterboarded. Hell, he would have fucked Lamia senseless if it meant sparing his children the pain they were going through right now.

Nothing hurt him more than imagining what that warlock had done to his sweet little girl. Than seeing the utterly broken, angry, hurt expression currently on Matthew's face. The twins were his world. His heart and soul. And they'd been tainted by evil tonight – innocence forever lost.

"Our mom was a demon." Matthew's green eyes were burning despite the moisture leaking from them. "You lied to us. You're a liar."

Facing an all-powerful, evil big brother had been easier than keeping the gaze of the betrayed little boy. Chris hid a wince by glancing over his shoulder at Mrs. Winterbourne. "I'm sorry, but would you mind taking Victoria to my office? My son and I need a minute."

His old teacher smiled sympathetically. "Of course, Dear." She carefully lifted Victoria, who whimpered in her sleep. Standing, Mrs. Winterbourne paused by Chris' side. "Can you heal the poor girl's wrist first? I think she broke it."

Chris' eyes locked on the tiny wrist curved to an unnatural angle and colored purple. Sucking in a breath to keep hold of his already tattered emotions, he held a hand over the bone and reached inside to the place where his love for Victoria shone brightly. Pulling out the magic, his chest warmed, and the sensation moved through his arm to his hand, which lightly glowed golden. A moment later, the injury was gone.

"Thanks, Daddy," Victoria murmured in her sleep.

The back of his eyes stung, and he couldn't resist lightly stroking her hair and kissing her forehead. "I love you, Sweet Girl." He gave a weak smile to Mrs. Winterbourne. "Thank you. If she wakes up before I come-"

"I'll let you know right away," she assured.

Once the other teacher had taken Victoria and gone, Chris turned to face his son. It was strange seeing the look on Matthew's face. The stubborn set of his little jaw, the darker green to his eyes and slight flare of his nostrils made Chris feel like he was being glared at by a tiny version of himself. He supposed he was in a way. Matthew had inherited more than just his looks. He'd gotten his father and grandmother's temper too.

Pulling a chair over to the sofa, Chris sat across from his son with a heavy breath. He promised he'd never lie to his children, but he'd never wanted to more than in this moment. How could he possibly put a positive spin on what Lamia was? What she'd done not just to him but so many others. How could he possibly even hint at the atrocities that sadistic bitch had committed when her blood flowed in the veins of his children? More nervous than he'd ever been in his life, he wet his lips, trying to think. Nothing was coming.

"The warlock said he knew our mom," Matthew started, "that she was evil. None of the other kids here can do what I can do. It's because I have demon powers, isn't it? I'm gonna grow up to be evil. Just like _her_."

"No." Chris firmly shook his head. "Absolutely not. The powers you got from her are neutral. Do understand neutral?" Off his son's furrowed brows, "It means not good or bad. You get to decide what to use them for, and I _know_ you'll always use them for the right reasons because you have a good heart, Matthew."

Matthew narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You sound like Grandpa. You _never_ sound like Grandpa. You're lying to me again. Stop it. I'm a big kid. I can know stuff. Tell me the truth. Mom was evil, and I could be too."

Chris sighed. "I never lied to you about your mother." Off the scathing scowl he got, the young father held up his hands. "I did leave things out though. I did. They were things I didn't think you should hear about until you were older. That I still can't . . . they're not easy for me to explain, okay? Can you understand that?"

"Cause it makes you sad?" Matthew's glare lessened a little.

"Yes. Very, very sad, and honestly? A little scared too."

The little boy's eyes went wide. " _You_ get scared?"

"Yeah," Chris admitted. "Not as much for myself anymore. But for you. For your sister. For Uncle Wyatt and Aunt Chloe. Auntie Mel. Family is everything. That's why . . . that's why it's not easy for me to talk about your mom. She's technically your family, and I don't want you to know the bad stuff."

Matthew lowered his eyes to his shoes. "So, she was bad, huh? The warlock said she was the mother of monsters. Was he being mean or was she really a monster?"

Wringing his hands, Chris swallowed thickly before nodding. "She was cursed, Matty. A long, long time ago by a Greek goddess named Hera who was mad at her about something. The curse turned her into a demon, but she really was a sorceress before that, and those are the powers she passed to you."

"Demons are evil." Matthew raised worried eyes to his father's face. "Did she hurt innocents?"

Chris couldn't hold his son's gaze, focusing on his lap instead. What he planned to say wasn't a lie exactly. Just not something he himself totally believed given what she'd done to him. "The curse made her mind sick. She couldn't tell the difference between right and wrong, so she did things she might not have done otherwise. Like hurt people."

Matthew sniffled and roughly wiped his eyes trying not to cry. He said nothing for a very long time, staring intently at his dirt and blood covered sneakers. When his little face turned to Chris he looked horribly confused and distressed. "How come you loved someone who hurt people and did bad things?"

Chris' chest clenched hard. He wanted to lie. God, he wanted to lie so badly. Maybe then he could spare his son this pain. Let him keep a little bit of his childhood. Who was he kidding? It was too late for that. "Matthew, I . . . I didn't. I never loved her."

He looked up in time to see the little boy's mouth fall open as tears finally slipped down chubby cheeks. Reaching to wipe away the tears, Chris' heart twanged when Matthew jerked back, scooting to the far side of the sofa to put distance between them.

"Then why . . ." Matthew choked on emotion. "Why did you have me and Vicki?"

Oh, God. Here it was. The moment Chris had been dreading for nearly six years. He couldn't say it. Not to his son. Not to the little boy he'd gladly suffer anything to keep safe and happy. How could he tell one of the two lights of his life that he'd been created out of something so horrible? So vile and soul crushing?

"You didn't want us," Matthew realized breaking into sobs.

This time, Chris didn't let the boy pull away. Rushing forward onto the sofa, he wrapped his arms tightly around his son, resting his head on top of the child's. "Listen to me, Matthew Leonard Halliwell, that is absolutely, one-hundred percent not true. I did want you. I love you and your sister more than anything. You _know_ that. Nothing has changed, you hear me? Not who you are. Not what we all mean to each other. You, me and Victoria are a family of _good_ witches, and we _all_ love each other. Forever. Period. Got it?" When the boy remained silent, he pulled back to look in his face. "Got it?"

"But _why_?" Matthew insisted.

Chris took a breath, his own eyes starting to burn now. "It's . . . it's so complicated, Matthew. Very grown up and complicated. _Please_ , don't ask me to explain yet." His throat was closing up on him. "As your dad I am asking you to trust me. Trust that I wanted you and your sister. That I love you both. _Please_."

With the unnatural maturity Matthew had exhibited since he was a baby, he deduced, "Mom is the thing that scared you, isn't she?" When Chris winced, the child cupped his father's face, locking eyes with him. He very solemnly stated, "It's okay, Daddy. I promise I won't ask again. I believe you."

Chris hugged his son fiercely nearly losing the battle to keep tears at bay. He kissed the side of Matthew's head. "Thank you, Kiddo."

The two remained locked in the embrace for several minutes before Matthew pulled away. Fidgeting, his eyes dropped to his lap. "Daddy, I'm kinda scared. What if I get sick too? Do bad things?" His voice cracked. "Then you won't love me anymore."

Chris lifted his son's chin. "Matthew, you don't have a drop of evil in you, okay? More importantly, there isn't anything, and I mean _anything_ , you could ever do that would make me stop loving you. Got it?"

"Even if I turned evil?" the boy checked.

Chris smiled. "I don't think that's possible, but if you did, well, then, you wouldn't be the first Halliwell to take a trip down the dark side. If I can save your Uncle Wyatt, I promise I can save you too."

Matthew's eyebrows shot up. "Uncle Wyatt was _evil_?"

"Yup. Source of it," Chris confirmed. "Want to hear the story?"

With a little too much enthusiasm, Matthew nodded. "Yeah!"

Pulling the boy into his side, Chris then told the tale of how Wyatt Matthew Halliwell had turned into the Source of All Evil in a timeline that never came to be. Leaving out the scarier, gorier parts of the tale, he explained how Wyatt had been led astray and how he – the intrepid little brother that he was - traveled through time to save him. By the time Chris reached the part of the tale where they'd learned an Elder was at fault, which he'd planned to use as a teaching moment about Good and Evil, he heard Matthew softly snoring against him.

Someone quietly cleared their throat.

Chris looked up to find Bianca in the doorway. He gave a thin smile and gently repositioned Matthew so he was lying on the sofa. Pulling a blanket off the back, he covered his son, kissed his forehead, then slipped into the hall with Bianca.

"How are they?" Bianca wondered.

"Not good." Chris shoved his hands in his pockets. "Matthew knows his mother was a demon. He doesn't know everything, but he suspects enough. He's terrified he's going to turn evil now. And Victoria . . . Her wrist was broken, but she was so exhausted she still passed out. Didn't even wake up when I healed it."

Bianca's eyebrows shot up with a shocked smile. "You healed? Baby, that's amazing. I know how much that must mean to you, and I'm so proud of you."

"For all the good it will do if Cain . . ." Chris dropped his head and sucked in a breath.

Bianca hesitantly touched his arm. When he didn't recoil she pulled him into a hug, and he melted into her. "It's going to be okay. Whatever happened, and hopefully, it wasn't as bad your imagination is making it, it will be okay. Because Victoria has you, and you'll get her whatever help she needs."

"The idea of her going through what I went through . . ."

Bianca pulled back, fixing him with a firm look. "What you _survived_. You got through it, Chris. It was terrible and painful, but you picked up the pieces, put yourself back together and came out stronger." She palmed the side of his face smiling lovingly. "You are the strongest man I have ever known, and you passed that strength to your daughter. She's a survivor just like her daddy. She _will_ get through this. No matter what that monster did."

"I want to resurrect the bastard just to torture and kill him on an endless loop."

"I know. Me too."

He ran his hands down his face. "Fuck. I need to get a grip before I talk to Victoria. I know that. I have to be calm, but I'm so . . . The image of that warlock with his mouth and hands on her makes me fucking sick, Bianca. And furious. And instead of the power to heal, I really wish I had mom's ability to blow shit up right now because a rampage in the Underworld sounds great."

"Then wait," Bianca advised. "Let her sleep. She needs the rest, and you need the time to prepare yourself for whatever it is she tells you. Because you're right, you have to be calm. You can't let your own experience affect how you respond to her."

Purposefully changing the subject, Chris asked, "How is Wyatt holding up?"

"Not great." Bianca folded her arms with a shrug. "He's wracked with guilt. Completely blames himself for what happened to the twins. I think it's throwing him back to when you were missing. He never got over that, you know. Failing his little brother so horribly when he's all powerful. He carries the weight of what you went through as though he personally caused it."

"Yeah. I know. No matter how many times I tell him I don't blame him, he'll never forgive himself for not finding me sooner."

Bianca's eyes dipped. "I know how he feels."

"It had to happen," Chris quietly replied. "Just like Dad is always saying – everything happens for a reason. If I hadn't been taken by Lamia, the twins wouldn't be here, and I would never wish my kids away. Speaking of kids, how is the baby?"

Bianca smiled sadly. "Small but stable. They have her in intensive care on something to help her breathe since her lungs are underdeveloped. Doctors are confident she'll be fine, but all the same, Christina Grace will need to stay there for a few weeks."

Chris' mouth fell open. "They named her after me?" A fleeting smile crossed his face.

"Anyway," Bianca went on, "Chloe is scared but healthy. Your parents and aunts are double teaming both her and Wyatt. When I left, your Aunt Phoebe was using her empathy to chill Wyatt out some. I still had to promise I'd update him later before he'd orb me into Magic School though."

"I'll have to make sure to get over there as soon as I can," Chris decided. "Let him know, _yet again_ , I don't blame him. Meet my niece and warn her what a guilt-machine her father is, and how she'd better heal up fast for his sake."

Bianca caught her bottom lip between her teeth not saying anything for a while. At a rapid-fire pace, she finally ventured, "If it's too much right now, I understand." Off the baffled look on his face, she quickly went on, "Us. I meant us."

"Are you looking for a way to back out?" Chris wondered. "I know things happened fast with us, so I get if you need more time to grieve Adam . . ."

"No." She shook her head. "It's not that. All I wanted was to avenge his death, and I did that. I'm not going to insult his memory by pretending to feel more than I did for him. I loved him but never the way he needed. I think he'd want me to be honest about that."

Chris frowned. "Then what are you talking about?"

Gaze locked on the floor, she shrugged again. "I meant for you. I won't hold it against you. With everything happening with the twins and Wyatt's family I understand if it's too much to start a relationship right now. The twins are confused enough and you-"

Chris silenced her by pulling her in for a dizzying kiss. When they parted, he kept his hands on her face, looking into her eyes. "I need you. The twins don't need to know anything about us yet, but Bianca, I want you by my side. It's where you belong, and we both know it. It's time to stop pretending our being together is anything other than inevitable. I love you. Only you. Forever."

"I love you too," she returned. "Heart, body, soul. I'm yours, Halliwell. You know that."

Lifting her mouth to his again, Chris poured himself into the embrace. All the love. All the fear. All the passion. All the sorrow. In his past life, sex had been a coping mechanism for him. When times were hard, he blew off steam with a rough roll. When he was sad, he took comfort in the tender touch of another. While Lamia had tainted the act for him, Bianca resurrected that desire to escape in it. It was why it took great effort not to pull her into an empty classroom and drown in her.

Flushed, he forced himself to take a step back. "I should . . ." He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't even know what I should do first."

"Visiting hours at the hospital are probably over by now," Bianca pointed out. "You can see them tomorrow. I think tonight you should sit with Victoria. That way she has her father present when she wakes up. I'll stay with Matthew. Okay?"

He couldn't resist kissing her one more time. Resting his forehead against hers, he whispered, "Thank you."

000

Head resting on a fist, Chris sat in his desk chair watching his sleeping daughter. Unmoving as a statue for hours, he was getting stiff. The aches were barely noticed, though. His mind was too focused on Victoria's halo of chestnut hair, serene face and the sound of her steady breathing. On trying to figure out how to ask his angel of a daughter what a monster had done to her without every object in his office getting blasted by lightning.

Her little brow suddenly furrowed, a moan of distress escaping. Breaths came in and out in shaky, short bursts. She started struggling in her sleep, tossing back and forth on the sofa.

Chris was up in a flash, kneeling next to the couch, hands on her shoulders. "Shhh, Sweet Girl. It's okay. You're okay."

With a gasp, violet eyes snapped open wide with fear and confusion. Spotting her father, she flung her arms around his neck, holding him in a tiny death grip. Her little voice was going a hundred miles a minute into his ear. "Daddy, I was so scared. I didn't know what to do. The warlock hurt Matty, and I couldn't get to him for a long time. The warlock was a really really bad man. Then I hurt my wrist. I was so happy you came. I knew you would save us. I knew it."

Holding her close, Chris didn't sound at all convincing to himself when he told her, "It's all going to be fine. It's over now."

Victoria pulled back, eyes shining in the dim light. "Is Matty okay?"

"I was able to heal him. He's going to be fine."

Her little face broke into a huge, surprised smile. "You healed? Graduations, Daddy!"

He couldn't help the airy chuckle at her excitement and incorrect word choice. "It's _congratulations_ , Sweetie. Not graduations. But thank you."

"Are Uncle Wy and Auntie Chloe okay?" Victoria quietly questioned. "I heard fighting and Uncle Wyatt said a bad word right before there was a big crash sound. Uncle Wyatt never uses bad words. Even little ones." Her eyes doubled in size, mouth falling open. "Did the baby get hurt? Oh, Daddy, what happened to my cousin?"

Seeing the similarities between himself and Matthew had always been easier, but in this moment, Chris clearly saw his daughter had gotten more than the color of her hair from him. Bianca was right; Victoria had his strength. Unfortunately, it came with a heaping dose of being a martyr too.

Chris lightly palmed the side of her face. "You always worry about everyone else, don't you? Put the needs of others first even when you're hurt. When you're scared and sad. It's a good thing to care about others, but you have to take care of yourself too, okay?"

"Family comes first," Victoria recited. "So, how is everybody?"

"Everyone is going to be fine." He smiled sadly. "Now, what about you? How are _you_?"

Victoria started fidgeting, eyes focused on the end of the couch. She opened her mouth only to close it a beat later. Her eyes were quickly filling with tears. Finally, she quietly, brokenly admitted, "I think I did something bad."

The words gripped Chris' heart and wrenched it. He thought he knew what she was talking about, but he prayed he was wrong. That she didn't have the same horrible shame-filled thoughts that had once plagued him. "Wh-what, um, what do you mean? What do you think you did?"

"I was really mad," she started slowly, "and my magic felt funny. Super duper hot like fire in my tummy. Then this red cloud came out of my mouth and the warlock . . . he did what I told him for a little bit."

Bewitchment. Chris couldn't breathe. His thoughts raced against his will to the memories of when that magic had been used against him. How helpless against it he'd been. How it had filled him with the scorching, insatiable heat of want. Now his daughter had inherited that vile magic. Accidentally used it on . . . Oh God no.

"Then he did stuff I didn't like," Victoria went on. Her face crumpled.

The sight of his daughter in pain snapped him out of his thoughts. Without thought, Chris pulled her into a hug, shushing into her ear and rubbing her back. For the second time tonight, his eyes were stinging as his child quivered in his arms. What he wouldn't give to take on her pain and confusion, so she didn't have to feel this way.

"Daddy," Victoria sniffled against his chest, "he . . . he . . ."

Chris took a ragged breath, terrified of what the next words would be. "It's okay, Sweetie. You can tell me. I love you. No matter what."

"He kissed me," Victoria half-sobbed. "Not like family. It was really icky, and it made my tummy sick."

He'd seen that much. Had been prepared for that information. Revolted and enraged by it but prepared. He nodded, gently encouraging, "What else? It's okay. I won't be upset. Just . . . did he touch you in any of the places I told you were private?"

Chin quivering, she nodded, tears racing down her face.

For her sake, Chris schooled his features to reveal none of what he felt. Ignored the bile rising up his throat. The rage warming his skin. How his stomach was slithering with disgust. How his heart was slowly shattering. With a tightly controlled calm, he asked, "Can you show me?"

Victoria crossed her arms over her chest and sobbed.

This wasn't happening. Not to his little girl. Teeth tore into the side of his mouth to stop his emotions from wreaking havoc on the room. He tasted copper before he dared stop to ask a question to which the answer might kill him. "Anywhere else?"

She shook her head.

"Did he do anything else?" Chris had to swallow vomit before he could finish, "Make you touch him?"

She shook her head again.

Thank God. He pulled her into another hug, stroking her hair. Kissing the top of her head, he promised, "It's all going to be okay. You're going to be just fine."

"It-it was all-all my f-fault," she sobbed. "I did something bad, right? That's why my magic hurts me. How come the warlock did that. He said I was like mommy. That she wasn't nice. That she was a – a demon." Her face scrunched with sorrow.

Desperately, Chris cupped her tiny face, shaking his head. "No. Victoria Hope Halliwell, you listen to me, and you listen good. What happened was _not_ your fault. I don't ever want to hear you say otherwise. You are a sweet, thoughtful, _good_ girl, and what that monster did to you was not okay and _not_ your fault. Never, ever think otherwise. Not for a second."

Violet eyes looked miserably back at him. "Mommy was a bad lady, wasn't she?"

The worst. "It's complicated, Sweetie."

"Either somebody is bad or they're not," she argued. "You never talk about her. You never tell us anything. It's cause she was bad, right? And I . . . I'm just like her."

"You're nothing like her," Chris replied more sharply than he meant to. The venom in his tone startled his daughter into wide eyed shock. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out an exhausted breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that."

Both of his children were too smart for their own good. Which is why Victoria, face pale as snow, realized, "You hate her. You hate our mommy."

Chis lowered his head. He didn't know what to say.

"Why? What did she do?"

Held me prisoner for a month. Tortured me. Raped me. "I . . . she . . . it's-"

"Comp-il-i-cated?" Victoria guessed.

Chris nodded. "Complicated. Yeah. I'll tell you the same thing I told your brother. What happened with me and your mom is really hard for me to explain. A lot of grown up stuff happened that you're too young to understand yet. And it's not easy for me to talk about. It makes me really, really sad."

Violet eyes he loved that looked exactly like the pair he hated were soft with sympathy. "Okay, Daddy. You don't gotta talk about it. I never want to hear about her again anyway. Not if she was like that warlock."

Chris' heart skidded to a stop. How much had his little girl guessed? "Wh-what, uh, what do you mean?"

"Bad."

Relief exited as a breath. "Right. Bad."

"Daddy, I'm really tired. Can we go home now?"

He smiled weakly. "Our home got wrecked by the warlock, so I think we're going to have to stay at the Manor with Grandma and Grandpa for a little while till I can get it fixed. Is that okay?"

"Do you think Grandma would make caramel rolls?" she excitedly questioned.

Chris chuckled. "I'm sure you could convince her."

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, Baby?"

Very seriously, she swore, "I'm never gonna be like mommy. When I grow up, I wanna be just like you. I love you bunches."

Chris lovingly tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "I love you more than anything."

A tiny smile pulled up the corner of Victoria's mouth before she mischievously asked, "More than Matty?"

"Nice try."

Victoria's gaze jerked up to the ceiling. "Matthew's awake." Without waiting or asking permission, she orbed away to go check on her twin.

Chris was honestly a bit relieved to have a moment alone. The weight of the evening was suffocating, and he needed a second to breathe. Closing his eyes, he took several deep inhales, blowing the air out through his mouth in a steady stream. Counted to ten. Repeated.

Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he dialed a number he hadn't used in years. It took only three rings for the person on the other end to answer. "Hey, Dr. Mickelson, it's Chris Halliwell." A pause. "Um, not so good actually. That's why I'm calling so late. Sorry by the way. It's just kind of an emergency." A longer pause. "I think I need to start seeing you again. Something's come up. And, uh, I'll also need to make an appointment for Victoria." Another lengthy pause. "Thanks. I appreciate it. We'll see you then."

At the sound of the dial tone, Chris hurled the phone with all his strength at the wall. It shattered with a satisfying crunch. Through blurred vision, he glared at the broken pieces of the phone feeling like it was the perfect representation of his life.

He'd been right all those years ago. Never would he be free of what Lamia had done to him. And now his children were paying the price.

TBC . . .


	23. Forgive and Forget

Thanks a million to sise87, Naruto Loves Femkyuubi and Chuck for your reviews. Life is hectic so your encouragement is really the only thing keeping me updating right now. Your words give me inspiration :)

Chapter 23

The delivery ward was not what Chris had been expecting. For starters, he had to be buzzed in like he was visiting a prisoner in supermax. Once inside the prison imagery didn't improve. Everything was stark white and covered in security pads and cameras. He also discovered there was no big window looking down over wiggling newborns, but rather an imposing double door sternly labeled, 'Nursery and N.I.C.U. – Restricted Access. Trespassers will be Prosecuted'.

Walking toward the reception desk, the only indication anything remotely joyful happened in this place were the pictures of the previously delivered babies posing in large canvas pictures hanging on the walls. He particularly enjoyed an image of premature twin newborns so small they fit in their father's baseball glove as they stared wide-eyed at the camera.

Another sign that he was in the right department were the pink scrubs all the nurses and doctors were wearing as they darted in and out of rooms or sat at the reception desk drinking coffee and chatting. Though, a few went silent and blushed through smiles at his approach, which under normal circumstances would have made him feel pretty good about himself. As it was, he was too distracted and worried about too many things to more than vaguely notice their approving glances. When a short, round woman about his age smiled sweetly and told him the Halliwell family was in room 567 down the left corridor, he offered a rushed 'thanks' and hurried that way.

Turning a corner at the end of the hall, Chris spotted his aunts standing outside one of the doors looking like they were in demon-mode. All hushed voices and serious expressions, eyes on the look out for anyone around who might overhear something they shouldn't. As soon as they saw him, Phoebe practically melted with relief, rushing toward him, and Paige smiled tightly, waiting for him to come to her.

"Chris, oh thank god," Phoebe gushed, barely managing to refrain from wrapping him a tight hug, stopping just shy of touching him. She made a face as she realized who she was dealing with and took a step back. "Sorry. Sorry. Are you okay? You look okay, but wow, your emotions . . . there's not a potion strong enough to block what you're feeling. What happened?"

"The twins are . . ." He almost said okay but thought better of it. "They're with Mel at the manor. She had them finger painting when I left."

Phoebe frowned, picking up easily how much he was leaving out. Instead of pushing him on it, her eyes grew soft and she offered a sympathetic smile. "I see. If you need anything, Honey, you know all you have to do is ask."

"Yeah." He tried to smile but didn't quite manage it. "I do."

Paige cocked her head, eyeing him carefully. "I take it Cain met his match in our favorite neurotic nephew?"

The mere mention of the warlock sent a spark of rage through him, heating his skin. Hands balling into his fists, jaw clenching, he stiffly nodded.

His aunts exchanged worried looks but said nothing.

"Peanut?"

Piper poked her head out of the room. At the sight of her middle child, she rushed toward him, stopping a few inches away. Looking into his face with her own full of love and concern, she waited for him to hold out his arms in permission before hugging him fiercely.

Sinking into the embrace, Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Just like when he was a young boy, he found solace in his mother's loving arms and fresh baked cookie scent. Soaked in some of her boundless strength as though it were sunshine on his skin.

"I can't get into it right now," Chris whispered into her hair, "but some things happened with the twins . . . I'm not sure what to do and I . . ." He choked on emotion unable to finish.

Pulling back to look in his face, his mother locked eyes with him. "Chris, whatever happened, we will get through it like we do everything else. As a family. It's going to be okay. I promise you. Never again will you ever have to feel alone. _Ever_. Got it?"

The corner of his mouth tugged up. "Got it, Mom." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, uh, the first thing I need to ask is if it would maybe be okay if the twins and I stay with you and Dad for a while?"

Piper gave him a wide, brilliant smile. "More than. I'd love to have my grandbabies so close." She pointedly added, "Not to mention _my_ baby."

Ducking his head, he flushed. "Mo-om."

"What?" The tiny matriarch put hands to hips. "I don't care if you're a foot taller than me. You will always be my baby, Christopher Perry Halliwell. Deal with it."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Okay. I should warn you, though, Matthew and Victoria can be kind of a lot to deal with on a daily basis. Loud. Messy. You sure about this? I mean, it'd just be until I can get my place fixed, but it's a lot to ask."

"They can't be any worse than those two," Piper returned gesturing to her sisters.

"Hey, now, Missy," Paige defended, "I was a delight to live with."

Phoebe nodded firmly, pointing at herself. "Me too."

Piper snorted. "Right. Uh-huh."

"So, you're sure you're sure?" Chris checked.

His mother levelled a look at him. "Give it a rest, Mister. The manor will always be your home. Stop acting like you're going to be an inconvenience. It's going to be fun. I can show Victoria how to make those caramel rolls she loves, and I know your dad has been dying to teach Matthew about baseball. Oh! And, I found a recipe for a spinach and gruyere souffle I think you're going to love."

Leave it to his mother to have two out of three points involve food. Though, he couldn't complain. Dinners at the manor had become a favorite event of his since the twins were born. His mother always made a special point of preparing a vegetarian option for him if the whole meal wasn't, and it was always the most amazing meal of his month.

"Okay, then I'll bring over the rest of our stuff later," Chris decided. He glanced toward the patient room. "Is Wy with Chloe?"

"No," Piper answered, "Chloe's sleeping. He and your dad went to sit with baby Christina."

Phoebe quickly jumped in to reassure, "Who is doing really well. Once she puts on a little more weight she'll be able to go home."

"Chloe's good too," Paige added. She pulled a face. "Well, as good as any woman who has just had an experience akin to straddling exploding dynamite anyway."

Chris' eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, okay, on that note, I'm going to go find the men."

While Paige rolled her eyes and shrugged, Phoebe gave an airy laugh.

"Before you go," Piper said quickly to get him to pause, "I need to tell you your brother . . ." She sighed, giving him a sad smile. "Well, you know how he can get. Especially about you and the twins. It's brought up a lot of old issues. I know it's not fair considering you're dealing with a lot yourself, but I think he needs some closure from you."

Frowning, Chris questioned, "Closure on what? We're good."

"You are," Phoebe picked up, "but he never got over your kidnapping, Chris. Now he thinks he's failed your kids on top of it."

Paige quietly added, "To be fair, I don't think any of us will ever forgive ourselves for what happened to you."

"I had no right to blame you guys," Chris countered. "Honestly, it was my own fault. When I went into the past I was so concerned about making things worse for everyone else by changing too much or not enough, I didn't stop to think about the ripples I was making in my own life. The enemies I was creating who would have an unaware target in, well, me. New me. You know what I mean. I sort of brought it on myself."

"Let's get this straight right now," Piper firmly stated, "the _only_ one to blame for what happened was that sick, twisted bitch, Lamia. What happened was not your fault or in anyway deserved, Christopher. You saved the entire freaking future. Our family. And all with us giving you grief about it and challenging you every step of the way. So, I don't want to hear you ever say you brought it on yourself _ever_ again, okay?"

With a half-smile, he nodded. "Yeah okay. But, the same goes for you three. Charmed or not, you couldn't have prevented what happened, and while I was bitter and angry and blamed you guys at first, I let that go a long time ago. You three need to let it go too. For me."

"Oooh, see what he did there?" Paige commented, narrowing her eyes.

Phoebe smiled softly, "Well, we can't very well go against the wishes of one of our favorite nephews, can we?"

Piper couldn't resist hugging her son again. "I love you, Peanut."

"Love you too, Mom." Pulling out of the embrace, he jerked a thumb toward the direction he'd come. "I should go talk to his highness. Set that big head of his straight. You know, remind him he's only human and all."

"He's lucky to have a brother like you," their mother remarked. "Keeps him grounded."

With a little wave to his aunts, Chris took off back the way he'd come, heading to the reception desk. When a young blonde girl, probably just out of college, turned to see what he needed, her mouth fell open and she dropped the data pad she'd been holding. Flustered, she stooped to pick it up only to smack her head on the desk.

"Oh, geez." Chris winced. "Are you okay?"

Nervously laughing, she put a hand over the red spot on her forehead. "Um, yeah. Misjudged that I guess. So clumsy." It wasn't long before the rest of her face was red too. She started looking anywhere but at him. "So, um, how can I, um, help you today?"

"My brother is Wyatt Halliwell. He and my Dad are with my niece in the N.I.C.U. and I was hoping I could get access?" He glanced at the badge clipped to the neck of her scrubs. "Hannah is it?"

At the use of her name she let out an awkwardly breathy giggle. Realizing what she'd done, she cringed in mortification, muttering under her breath, "Get a freaking grip, Hannah." She shot Chris a wide, uncomfortable smile. "Right. Um, so Mr. Halliwell did put you on the approved visitor's list, I just, um, need to see some I.D."

Reaching into his back pocket, he grabbed his wallet and flipped it open, so she could check his license. When she gave a nod, he returned it. As she came out from behind the desk and gestured to follow her, he did so, smiling at how she kept her eyes dedicatedly glued to her bright white shoes. Poor kid.

Putting her hand up to the security by the double doors, Hannah recited a passcode as a light ran down her palm. The pad blinked green and the doors opened. She led him down several corridors of operating rooms then past the regular nursery where Chris finally saw the large window looking down on the newborns. He smiled at the tiny bundles sound asleep, chuckled at one child who reminded him of Matthew at that age, kicking furiously at an offending blanket.

At the end of the hall was another set of double doors and another security pad. Hannah put her hand up to this one, giving off another random string of numbers and letters. The system beeped, and a lock hissed open. The young nurse pushed one of the heavy doors open with her shoulder and held it by leaning back against it.

The large room was full of tiny incubators. Thankfully, most were empty, but a dozen or so harbored tiny figures in varying degrees of health. Several parents were sitting in scrubs and masks, gloved hands lovingly stroking the face of their ailing baby. One mother was feeding a baby so small Chris could hardly believe it was a real child. His heart broke for those parents. He couldn't imagine what he'd have done if something like that would have happened to Victoria or Matthew. With a stab of guilt, he realized when they were first born, he probably wouldn't have cared.

"They're, um, just over there." Hannah pointed to the far right corner.

"Do I need scrubs or anything?"

Hannah let the door go and went to a cupboard, pulling out a box of sterile gloves and a covering for Chris' clothes. "You'll need these. More for the other little ones. Christina is actually doing really well. It looks like your brother is feeding her, so you can probably hold her for a bit."

Putting on the proffered garments, Chris smiled at the nurse. "Thanks, Hannah. You've been really helpful."

Blushing furiously, she smiled at the floor. "Um, sure. If you, uh, need anything there's a call button. Wyatt knows. Um, bye, Mr. Halliwell." Then, head down, she scurried away, muttering, "Idiot. You are such an idiot."

Once she was gone, Chris shook his head with a smile and headed over to his family. Wyatt was sitting in a chair trying to get Christina to take a bottle, while their father was squatting in front of him with his patented former whitelighter pep-talk face on. It didn't seem to be helping.

His brother looked like hell. Blond hair greasy, face full of scruff, and clothes wrinkled, he hardly resembled the tidy older brother Chris knew. He'd clearly not slept, deep purple crescents under his eyes and skin pale. Then most disconcerting was the petrified expression on his face. Like he might shatter his new daughter if he held her wrong.

Seeing Chris, Leo smiled and rose. Intercepting his younger son before the older was aware of his presence, he pulled Chris off to the side. Looking worriedly back at Wyatt, he gave Chris a thin smile. He whispered, "Wyatt's not . . . Wyatt right now."

"What do you mean?"

"He hasn't slept," Leo quietly explained, "he's been too worried about Chloe and Christina and you and the twins. Guilt and anger and frustration are making his powers go haywire. Your mom had to freeze the hospital three times already. Phoebe gave him a shot of calm a while ago, but even that seems to be wearing off."

Chris' eyebrows went up. "He lost control of his powers? He's _never_ lost control. Not even when we were kids."

Leo gently argued, "There was another time. When you were gone." He glanced back at his oldest, shaking his head. "Wyatt's been holding in a lot more than we ever realized, and I think the dam broke."

"Mom mentioned something too. I think I can help. Can we have a little time alone, Dad?"

"Absolutely." Leo started to walk away but paused. Turned back. "Before I go, I know you hate me being over protective, but I'm your father, so I have to ask anyway – Are you okay, Son? I assume you took care of Cain, but call it father's intuition, I get the feeling it didn't go the way you hoped."

Eyes darkening, Chris shook his head. Just as his father was about to say something, he held up a hand to halt it. "Not now, Dad. I'll tell you and mom later when I bring our stuff to the manor. Only one son can be messed up at a time, and Wyatt's long overdue, so he gets today."

"Well, when you are ready, you know I'll be there. I love you, Chris."

"Love you too, Dad."

Nodding, Leo gave his son's shoulder a firm squeeze before heading out of the N.I.C.U.

Having a feeling they'd need it, Chris cast a privacy spell under his breath, which would prevent his and his brother's conversation from being overhead. He then strode over to Wyatt, surprised when his brother didn't immediately pick up on his presence. His sibling's powers really must be on the fritz. Normally King Arthur could peg him long before he showed his face.

"She's beautiful," Chris softly remarked.

Head jerking up, Wyatt's eyes were wide and watery. "Kit."

Without thinking, Wyatt almost jumped upright, but Chris gently pushed his shoulders back down. "Careful, you'll give my niece motion sickness moving like that." He half sat on the arm of the large chair hoping it would keep his brother in place. "Trust me, milk vomit is not fun. Warm and curdled. You smell sour even after a shower."

"How are they?" Wyatt questioned, voice shaking. "Kit, how are they? Please, tell me they're okay. That I didn't-" His head dropped.

Chris' stomach plummeted as the most powerful witch in the world's shoulders began shaking. The mighty Twice Blessed looked so small. So weak. Two things Chris had never imagined his brother being. Wyatt was the imposing one. Tall, broad and radiating power. This was so . . . _wrong_. Suddenly, he understood what his family had been warning him about.

Swiftly and gently stealing his niece, Chris smiled softly down at her tiny scrunched up face. Lightly tickling her ear with a gloved finger, swaying gently back and forth, he had her asleep in seconds. Carefully, he returned her to the open incubator, shutting the lid.

"It's all my fault," Wyatt miserably muttered, face crumpled.

Squatting in front of his sibling, Chris tried to catch his eyes. "Wy, hey, look at me. The twins are at the manor completely healthy. Probably covered in paint by now if Mel gets her way. I think she purposefully gets them as dirty and sugared-up as possible before she hands them back to me. Probably revenge for the time I shaved all the hair off her doll."

Hesitantly, Wyatt met Chris' gaze. Reddened eyes looked at him knowingly. "You said healthy. Not fine or okay. You're trying to protect me from the truth."

"It was just the first word to come to mind," Chris lied. "You're tired and emotional and overthinking it. Why don't you-"

"Stop," Wyatt ordered, voice low and deep. "Stop covering for me, Chris."

"Covering for you? What are you talking about?"

"I fail over and over, and you keep paying the price. First I fell to evil and-"

"Wyatt, that wasn't-" A glare the likes of which Chris hadn't seen since the other timeline cut his argument short. Snapping his mouth shut, he decided to wait out the first wave of his brother's emotional storm. Let him say his piece _then_ set him straight.

Bitterly shaking his head, Wyatt continued, "We were wrong to think it wasn't us. That the old timeline belonged to others. You became him in spite of fighting against his legacy for so long. At this point, you are the other Chris. He lives in you, which means the other me lives in you too. His failings. The pain he caused. The fact he got you killed."

Chris sucked in his lips to stop himself from speaking. It wasn't time. Not yet.

"Then you started having those nightmares about that other life, and I told you it was nothing. For months I brushed it off because I didn't want to believe what you saw was real. That I could do those things. If I had listened, maybe you wouldn't have nearly bled to death when you turned twenty-three. And, yet, instead of being mad at me, you pushed away everyone _but_ me."

Wincing, tears slipped down Wyatt's face as he quietly continued, "Then I let Lamia get her hands on you. She took you right out from under my nose." His hands balled tightly, shaking. "I was _right there_. Two floors up. I didn't sense anything. All powerful and I had no idea that monster was there. That you were in danger. If I just would've gone after you right away, or would have listened to you when you said you didn't want to go the gallery, _something_ . . ."

Gaze distant, Wyatt didn't seem to be talking to Chris anymore. Instead berating himself out loud. "The most powerful witch to walk the earth, but could I find you? No. I tried everything. Blood to blood spells. Summoning spells. Bianca and I tracked and tortured more demons than I can count trying to get information, but no one would _tell_ me anything. I'd go to the Underworld and try to sense you for hours, and sometimes I'd pick up on this flicker of something. Fear. Pain. Anger. But I couldn't trace it. Then after a few weeks, I couldn't even get that."

Chris could've told him why. He'd gone numb after being with Lamia a few weeks. He was wise enough not to say that though.

"Then I found you," Wyatt went on. "Finally, I had found you. But, you weren't you. Not even close. Seeing you like that – broken and scared and _sobbing_ – nothing has ever terrified me or hurt me more in my life. I know you were an adult, but in my head, I kept picturing my baby brother. The little boy that followed me around everywhere and trusted me implicitly to keep him safe, and that childish image of you kept accusing me of letting him down. And I did. I so did. Then even worse, I stayed in denial about all she'd put you through. It was too hard to accept, so I chose to ignore the signs. You carried that fear and pain all alone those first weeks because I was a coward."

Listening to his brother, seeing the agony on his face, Chris was getting the impression these thoughts had been plaguing Wyatt all these years. That guilt had been drowning his brother over and over long after Chris himself had healed. He wondered how he hadn't seen it. How he hadn't known his sibling had been suffering in silence.

Wyatt sniffed but made no move to wipe off the wetness on his cheeks. "Again, you blamed everyone but me. Said the Legendary Charmed Ones failed you by not rescuing you, but I'm supposed to be even stronger than them, and I couldn't do it. It was Bianca who figured it out. Not me. I tried to make up for it, though. I really did." Brown eyes looked miserably into Chris' green. "I thought I could make amends with the twins. Help you raise them. But now . . . God, Chris, I almost cost you your children. How do you not hate me? You should hate me."

"I could never hate you," Chris said simply. "Don't you get that? You're my big brother. I have looked up to you for as long as I can remember in two different timelines. In a world where I didn't have a father, you taught me how to ride my bike and drive a car. Gave me the sex talk. This time you were my best friend. Took care of me when I stupidly turned myself into a cat. Played basketball with me until two in the morning when Sydney broke up with me, and I was heartbroken. You were there for me when I didn't know who I was anymore. Never once did you judge me or look at me like I was weak or pathetic after what Lamia did. And, Wyatt, my kids adore you. You are a great Uncle."

"So great I let a Warlock kidnap them."

Chris let out a frustrated breath. "It wasn't like you said 'Hey, Cain, here are the kiddos. Have fun'. You damn near died trying to protect them. The only reason I was able to vanquish him was because Bianca stripped his powers."

Dropping his gaze to his lap, Wyatt said nothing.

"Wy," Chris gently continued, "you are not responsible for anything that happened to me or the twins. You did not kill me. It was the one line your other self wouldn't cross, and what gave me hope he could be saved. Gideon killed me. And _only_ Gideon. As for the nightmares, it wasn't like I could give you much to go on. Vague images and feelings aren't exactly enough to piece together the idea of an alternate timeline, and _again_ , I almost died on my birthday because of _Gideon_. His stupid cursed blade and the magic binding me to my past life."

"Fine," Wyatt conceded, "but you can't say I didn't fail you when it came to Lamia because I did."

Running a hand through his hair, Chris tried to think of how to make his point. Tried to find the words to ease his brother's mind. Finally, he settled on the truth. "I was pissed at you." When Wyatt's head jerked up, Chris locked eyes with him. "When I was trapped in that cave, and Lamia was raping me and torturing me, I remember thinking 'Where the fuck is Wyatt?'. Why hasn't he come for me yet?' And I was scared you'd never come. And furious. And disappointed."

"I knew it," Wyatt murmured, dropping his head again.

"Then you showed up," Chris went on. "Sure, Bianca might have been the one to figure it out, but you came for me, and for the first time in a month, I felt _safe_. Because I had my brother. Not the Twiced Blessed. Not King Arthur. Just my big brother. That's all I've ever needed you to be for me, Wy. I don't need your powers. I need you."

Brown eyes hesitantly lifted. "I would give anything to change what happened to you."

"I wouldn't," Chris said bluntly. "Was it awful? Yeah. It was. It also made me who I am today. It unlocked my past life and all the strength and knowledge that came with it. It gave me my children, Wy, and they give my life meaning. Purpose." Smiling softly, he finished, "Just like Christina will do for you."

Wyatt gave a watery smile.

"Listen, Wy, that little girl needs her dad. Needs the kindness, warmth and love you've shared with my kids time and time again. The strength and courage and wisdom that make me look up to you even today. You're a father now, so you don't get to feel bad for yourself anymore. Everything is about Christina. What she needs. So, pull yourself together. Now."

The older brother took a deep breath, letting it out in a long stream. With the air left the weight of nearly a decade of stockpiled guilt and pain, and Wyatt visibly sagged in relief of the burden he'd been carrying all this time.

Grinning Chris teased, "See how much better you feel when you stop thinking you're god?"

With a puff of air serving as a chuckle, Wyatt gave a more sturdy smile. "I love you, Kit."

"You want to hug don't you?" Chris guessed with a feigned exasperation.

In answer, Wyatt pulled his brother in for a quick embrace, breaking the family's rule of letting Chris make the first move when it came to any contact. Though, he rightly assumed his brother wouldn't mind this once, and Chris easily returned it, slapping his brother on the back affectionately a few times before pulling away.

"You are so Dad," Chris good naturedly grumbled. "You know that right?"

Wyatt threw back, "You turned into Mom."

"Mom's a badass."

"So is-" Wyatt cut himself off. "Nope. Can't say it."

They both laughed, remembering all the moments growing up where their father had complained about his lack of powers during times of trouble. How their family teased him he hadn't been all that much help in a fight even when he did have them. While both boys knew very well their father could handle himself just fine if need be it'd become a bit of a running joke amongst the Halliwell crew.

Settling down, Wyatt's eyes turned to his newborn daughter. "I hope I'm half the father Dad is." He edged a look to Chris. "Or you."

"You'll be great," Chris assured. "Remember when the twins were born? I was a mess, and you ended up pretty much taking care of them yourself for weeks." Gaze growing distant, Chris murmured, "Now _that's_ something I wish I could take back. Some of the darker thoughts I had about them makes me sick."

"It took a while, but you grew to love them just like we all knew you would."

Chris nodded, returning, "And you'll figure out how to be an outstanding father just as everyone knows you will."

"I'm scared," Wyatt quietly confessed. "I didn't think I would be, but after everything that's happened – how small and fragile she is – I'm terrified I'm going to fail her."

Putting a hand on his brother's shoulder, Chris gave it a firm squeeze. "They don't come with instruction manuals, but we all stumble our way through parenthood just fine. Promise."

As Chris said the words, he was partially trying to convince himself. While he may have managed to put his brother back together again today, he wasn't sure he'd be able to smooth over what had happened to his children quite so easily. What he did know was he'd give it all he had to make sure Victoria and Matthew lived happy, healthy lives in spite of their mother's legacy.

In this moment, Chris made a silent promise to himself. He would not let any member of this family live under the shadow of what Lamia had done. No more guilt. No more regret. No more fear. The Halliwells would heal once and for all. No matter how long it took Chris to make sure of it.

TBC . . .

For the Bianca/Chris fans still reading this, the chapter you've been waiting for is up next. It'll be a light, fun, sexy chapter I promise :)


	24. The Long Way Round

Thanks to Naruto Loves FemKyuubi and sise87 for your continued support. Your reviews let me know you're still with me, and that makes me keep working on this story. So this one is for you guys. :)

WARNING: Lots of graphic sexual descriptions. You've been warned.

Chapter 24

Carrying three boxes stuffed with books and potion ingredients through the halls of Magic School was probably not the smartest thing Chris had ever done. Students bustling between classes kept bumping into him, and he nearly lost the top box containing most of the vials he owned. One boy Chris had flunked last semester stuck out his foot, and if not for Paige happening by and orbing the boxes for him, Chris would have landed on his face with a bunch of broken belongings.

"Whoa, you okay there?" she questioned, helping steady him.

"I saw that, Zack," Chris said with pointed finger. "Guess whose Friday night date will be double potions with a pissed off professor?" When Zack started to storm off without acknowledging him, Chris called out, "Don't think I won't hunt you down for our big night, Hunter. I orb, remember?"

As the boy's friends started laughing, Zack agreed through clenched teeth, "Yes, Professor Halliwell."

"Don't you mean, _Headmaster_?" Paige corrected shooting a proud smile at her nephew.

"Wait what?" Zack questioned looking horrified.

"Afraid so, Mr. Hunter," Chris confirmed. "No more kind, sympathetic way-too-easy-on-trouble-makers Leo Wyatt running the show. You're stuck with me now. Better shape up or it's gonna be a really long few years for you."

As Zack mumbled an 'oh man' and bitterly stalked away with his friends chortling and slapping him on the back, Paige shook her head at the group and remarked, "Kids these days, huh? Think you can handle reigning all these hormonal magical teenagers in? Not to mention the paperwork and staffing and budget and-"

"I got it," Chris cut-in. "Thanks. I'm already nervous enough without you piling on. I give Dad a hard time because he's, you know, Dad, but he left me ridiculously big shoes to fill here."

"Don't worry," Paige reassured, "you're just the man to fill them. I'm sure of it." She frowned, looking puzzled, "Though, I kinda wonder why a guy running a school for magic was carrying all those boxes by hand when he could, oh, I don't know . . ." She shrugged, pretending to think. ". . . orb them to his new office or levitate them if he was in the mood for a walk."

Chris shot her a dirty look. "Funny. I didn't think about it okay? I guess all those years of Mom preaching about not using magic for every day chores stuck."

"Well, lucky for you, I was here," she said smugly. "Orbed them onto that big, shiny new desk of yours. You're welcome."

"Thanks," he drawled.

Paige smiled, a sweet, I-want-something smile. "So, since I've got you here, and since I was so kind as to help you not break your neck and all, I was thinking, maybe, you might possibly consider covering my advanced spells classes tomorrow?"

"Are you serious?" When her smile only widened, he rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable. Why can't you do it, exactly?"

"Henry and I sort of have plans."

Folding his arms, Chris shook his head. "You are a teacher for the youth of the magical community. What knowledge and inspiration you pass on to the next generation is critical in the battle between good and evil, but hey, you feel like going to dinner and movie, so no biggie, right?"

She wrinkled her nose. "It's actually a concert."

Throwing his hands up, Chris surrendered, "Fine. I've done this dance with you and your sisters one too many times to even think of wasting my energy arguing with you. Just go. I'll take your classes." As she started to thank him, he interrupted, "Do not make this habit, Paige. I mean it. I don't want to seem like I'm playing favorites with my Aunt, and I don't need a horde of teachers abandoning their classes."

"Aw, you're not nearly as bitchy as Phoebe always said," Paige teased. "Definitely as neurotic as your mother always said though."

"Are ya done? I have a lot of unpacking to do if you don't mind."

Paige held up her hands. "No, no. By all means, _Headmaster_ Halliwell."

"How long are you going to keep saying it like that?"

"Oh, I'd say quite a while."

Chris let out a weary breath and with a curt wave walked past his grinning Aunt toward his father's office. His office now. Leo Wyatt was officially retired. His parents had decided the time had come to enjoy life a little more. Travel. Play with their grandkids. Focus more on the non-magical side of life as so many of their years were devoted to the Greater Good. Not to say his mother wouldn't ever mix a potion or blow up a demon. And his father would stay on staff as a teacher. It would just be a slower chapter to their lives.

Entering the much larger office, Chris was struck by how strange it was to see his belongings in this space. Photos of his children on the desk instead of the one of him and Wyatt. Even stranger to think his father would no longer be the one sitting behind the rich mahogany desk, hands steepled and giving out sage advice to teachers and students alike. It'd be up to him now to guide the future of magic. He felt both excited for the opportunity and terrified of failing.

A ripple in the air drew his attention, and he smiled at seeing Bianca looking gorgeous as ever. She was wearing a long black trench and knee high leather boots, long dark hair hanging over her shoulders as a smile quirked her lips in the most tempting way.

"I see the spell I cast to grant you access to the school worked," Chris noted, crossing to her, resting his hands on her hips.

Looking up at him flirtatiously she remarked, "Pays to be dating the headmaster, I guess."

"I guess so," he concurred, stooping to take a sip from her lips.

With a light shove, Bianca backed him into the desk then with deliberate slowness unhooked the belt of her coat. Pretty sure he knew where she was going with this, Chris' heart quickened and he sat on the edge of the desk to enjoy the show.

"So, I was thinking," Bianca began, popping open the top button of her coat, "we really should celebrate your big promotion." The second button slipped free, and she gave him a look that sent a throb of lust straight down.

Catching a glimpse of what she had under the coat, or rather didn't have on under the coat, the heat of want quickly unfurled low in Chris' stomach. Mouth suddenly dry, eyes glued to the buttons of her coat, he feigned ignorance. "Oh, yeah? What'd you, uh, have in mind?"

She grinned, eyes twinkling and undid another button. "Getting any ideas yet?"

"A few," he huskily admitted.

"Good."

Unhooking the last buttons, Bianca slid the coat off her shoulders. Almost exactly as she'd done before he left for the past, she dropped it to the floor with a flourish standing before him in all her silken skinned glory.

Taking in the sight of her, Chris pushed off the desk erasing the distance between them in a few long strides. Without words, she knew to jump, and he knew to catch her, leather boot clad legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her over to his desk. Shoving the boxes he'd been so worried about earlier to the floor with a bang, he set her on the desk and captured her mouth with his.

Lips laying wonderfully warm kisses up his throat, she pulled off his Magic School robe then pushed up his shirt to run her cool hands up his suddenly fevered abs. The shirt joined the robe on the ground shortly after, and she lightly raked her fingernails down his chest in a way that made him rumble in appreciation.

Catching her earlobe with his teeth he gently raked over it, nibbling and sucking as she gave little moans. Mouth moving down her neck, sucking the sensitive spot at the base that never failed to make her arch back, his hands slid down her bare sides. Slipped over her hips and down her thighs, lingering a bit as a tease before continuing to her boots. Without looking he unzipped one then the other, dropping them to the floor.

Feet crossed behind him, she dug her heels into his lower back to bring him closer. Kissed his smooth chest, teeth teasing his nipple before soothing it with the swirl of her tongue. She'd just managed to relieve him of his belt when a startled cry made her gasp and Chris jump.

Leo Wyatt, red as a beet and a hand half-over his eyes, was turned away from them staring fixedly at the wall. Determinedly not looking, he sharply reprimanded, "This is a school, Chris. One I left you in charge of because I thought I could trust you to take the responsibility seriously."

Orbing Bianca's coat back on her and hurriedly throwing on his shirt, Chris' face and ears burned with embarrassment. "And this is my private office. Don't you know how to knock?"

"I left some of my books here," Leo explained, "and your brother and sister needed some information on a particular demon mentioned in one of them. As they were busy protecting an innocent, I offered to come get it." He edged Chris a hard look. "And do you think students and teachers are going to knock, Christopher? The door was unlocked. What if it had been a child to come in here?"

Chris glanced at Bianca, who'd slipped off the desk to sit in his chair with her hands over her face. "You didn't lock the door?"

"It was closed when I got here," she defended. "Figured you would've locked it if it wasn't."

Groaning, Chris rubbed his forehead. "Not good."

"No, it isn't," Leo agreed, though the heat had gone out of his tone. "Chris, I understand things are a little cramped with you and the twins living at the manor with me and your mom, but a school is not an appropriate place for sex."

Wishing the floor would swallow him whole, Chris' embarrassment came out as bitter sarcasm. "Because you and mom _never_ fooled around in inappropriate places, right?" Thinking better of it, he held up his hands. "No, no, no. Don't answer that. _So_ don't want to know."

Leo smiled, obviously remembering one such event. When he caught the raised eyebrows on Bianca, and the disgusted expression on his son's face, he forced the euphoric look off his own. He pointed to the book shelf comprising one of the walls. "I'll just . . ." He moved to search it.

"Why didn't Wy or Mel just call me?" Chris wondered. "I could've orbed it over."

"I couldn't remember the title," Leo confessed, pulling down and replacing several books. "I needed to see the covers of a few to know which one . . ." Scrutinizing a large green leather tome, he held it up triumphantly a moment later. "Got it. Now, I trust this sort of thing won't happen again?"

Chris sarcastically replied, "You mean getting caught half-naked with my all naked girlfriend by my former Elder father? Yeah, no. Don't think so." Off his father's unamused look, "We will find somewhere else for future encounters. Believe me, I seriously don't ever want a repeat of this."

Leo nodded acceptance. Glancing at Bianca, he said, "Nice to you see you, Bianca." Realizing what that sounded like, he turned red to his hairline. "Not that I saw . . . I mean . . ." He gave an awkward laugh, looking to his son. "I better get back to Wyatt's. Mind orbing me?"

"Love to." Chris waved a hand and his father went soaring upward in a swirl of light. As soon as the man was gone, Bianca burst into a fit of laughter. He glared at her. "This is so not funny."

"It's a little funny," she disagreed. "I mean, the look on your dad's face." Clearly picturing it again, she broke into another fit of amusement.

Allowing a small smile, Chris came around the desk, sitting on the edge in front of her. He watched her laugh until her eyes watered, and before he knew it, he was chuckling too. Somehow, as she always managed, Bianca lightened his mood. In the end, he supposed it hadn't been that bad. His parents were both pretty cool about stuff like this normally, and he and Bianca would have plenty of opportunities to make up for lost time.

So he thought.

000

Chris and Bianca hadn't talked to the twins about their relationship yet. Until they'd had enough time to determine how they all gelled together, until Bianca sorted her thoughts about taking on the role of mother and until the twins had gotten to thoroughly know and like her, they were sticking to the story of simply being very good friends. Though, the time was fast approaching where that line wasn't fooling anyone anymore.

Spending a great many evenings at the Manor with Chris and his children, Bianca slid perfectly into the tiny family, and Chris hadn't even realized all that had been missing until his girlfriend filled those roles with ease.

The other day she'd realized Matthew had a crush on a little girl named Roxy at the park, something Chris would never have guessed his son was old enough for. Bianca had encouraged Matthew to go ask her to play, and with a shyness Chris didn't know his son had, the little boy nervously asked the pretty blonde to ride on the seesaw with him. They'd spent the rest of the afternoon playing, and Matthew's smile was irremovable all day. Then at bedtime, he pronounced quite solemnly, "I'm gonna marry Roxy someday."

Then there were all the girly things that came more naturally for Bianca than Chris, who had been trying his darnedest to do but honestly didn't enjoy. Bianca often braided Victoria's hair for her or helped her pick out cool, cute clothes for school the next day. Tonight, she was painting Victoria's nails as they talked about how pretty her dress was for the dance recital tomorrow.

It was a quiet evening at the Manor. Piper and Leo had decided to take the trip to Paris Chris' mother always dreamed of going on, which left Chris and the twins alone in the Manor for the next week. His parents had planned the vacation on the assumption Chris' family would be back in the townhome by now, but the timeframe kept getting pushed back. Chris assured his parents he was a grown man, and he really didn't need them hanging around for his sake. He'd just housesit for them. No big deal.

Truthfully, it was kind of nice. The Manor was large and warm and sitting in the living room with his kids and the woman he loved, it was like experiencing a real home. Helping Matthew with his math homework, watching Bianca and Victoria look so natural as mother and daughter, his heart swelled. This was how it was supposed to be. All of them together enjoying a nice normal evening. He wished it was always like this. It was a welcome change from the troubles of the last months.

Victoria was going to therapy with him three times a week, and Dr. Mickelson was doing a great job putting things into a perspective the little girl could understand. Explaining how what had happened was not okay, not her fault, and how it was okay to have any feelings she needed to about it. Mostly, Victoria had seemed to let it go as though chalking it up to another demon doing something evil. The only sign it at all fazed her were occasional nightmares, but the fear was not of Cain. It was of herself. The ability to bewitch she'd inherited from Lamia terrified her, and she worried she would accidentally hurt someone. Chris always assured her she'd learn to control it like all her other powers. He prayed he wasn't lying.

While Victoria had largely moved on, accepted everything Chris told her as reassuring truth, Matthew was struggling. Chris had experienced the moment he'd projected into so many years ago just a few days ago, and finally learned Matthew had gotten into the fight at school because someone had called him a sorcerer. While true, Matthew wanted nothing to do with his mother's heritage. Refused to even use those powers anymore. He was terrified he'd be just like Lamia. No matter how fervently Chris told him that wasn't possible, Matthew had grown more somber. Sometimes even angry, and Chris wasn't always sure how to reach him.

"Are you coming tomorrow?" Victoria's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"To the dance?" Bianca questioned. "Of course. Wouldn't miss it."

Matthew looked up from his homework. Sticking his pencil in his mouth, chewing on the end, Chris recognized the scheming look on his son's face. He'd worn it often on his own. Erasing something in his notebook, the boy let out a disgruntled huff that wasn't at all real. "I can't get this one. Dad, can you help me?"

Not sure what his son was up to, Chris leaned over to examine the problem. He saw the outline of the correct answer still imprinted on the page and frowned. "Looks like you had it right before. Why'd you erase it?"

"Wasn't sure, but if you say it's right then it's gotta be. You're really smart." He smiled over at Bianca. "Did you know Dad is super, super smart, Bianca? About lots of stuff. Not just math."

Oh. Okay, there it was. Chris fought not to bury his face in his hands.

Smiling through a slight frown, Bianca answered, "Yeah. I knew."

"Yeah, Ms. Frost thinks so too," Matthew said a little too casually. "She's one of my teachers. She's gonna be at the dance tomorrow too. She thinks Dad is gonna be the best headmaster ever. I heard her say so."

"You did?" Chris questioned, surprised. He hadn't really worked with Elizabeth Frost much.

Matthew nodded vigorously. "Yup. That was right before she told Ms. Lopez she thought you were real cute too."

Chris let out an awkward laugh, eyes sliding to see what Bianca thought of this very purposeful sharing of information. She tilted her head and arched an eyebrow at him, clearly wondering if he had some sort of romantic history with this woman she'd never heard of before. He subtly shook his head, giving her a tight smile.

Victoria, blowing on her finished nails, put in, "Lots of ladies think Daddy is cute." Seemingly catching on her to twin's train of thought, she asked Bianca, "Do you think Daddy is cute?"

"He's okay," Bianca said, smirking at Chris who shot her an amused look.

"Would you kiss him?" Matthew posed.

Fully aware of where this was heading Bianca was trying not to laugh. "Well, how come I have to kiss him? How come he can't kiss me?"

"Cause you have to say you'll be his girlfriend first," Matthew explained, sounding a bit exasperated. "Boys can't just go kissing girls cause they like 'em."

Chris was glad to know that the talk with his kids about personal space and boundaries had at least stuck. Odd it was now being used against him . . . Sharing a look with Bianca they silently agreed the time had come to let the twins know the truth.

Feigning a put-upon sigh, Bianca said, "Guess I'll have to be your girlfriend then, Chris."

"Dad-dy," Victoria quietly urged, jerking her head to Bianca. "Kiss her."

"Oh, what, now?" Chris asked.

Both his children half-shouted, "Well, yeah!"

Trying not to laugh, Chris hopped up from the sofa and moved toward Bianca who was sitting on the floor in front of the lounger where Victoria was perched. Holding out a hand, he made a grand show of helping Bianca to her feet, earning an eye roll through a smile. Then, extremely chastely, he kissed her.

"About time," Matthew griped.

Victoria's face was split into a huge smile. "Awww."

Resting his forehead on Bianca's, Chris said, "Well, you know what they're going to start hounding us about next, right?"

"One step at a time, Halliwell," Bianca said, though there was a twinkle in her eyes.

Glancing at his kids, Chris announced, "Now that you've had your meddling, time for bed. Go get your pajamas on, teeth brushed and pick out a story. I'll be up in three minutes, and you better both be ready."

"Bianca," Matthew hesitantly wondered, "would you read us our story?"

The former assassin looked shocked. She glanced at Chris for guidance, but he just mouthed, 'Up to you'. Looking a little touched, she nodded. "Yeah. I think I can handle that."

Forty minutes later, Bianca flopped next to Chris on the sofa, resting her head on his shoulder and stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on his lap. "Your kids are even better manipulators than you are."

"How many extra stories did they weasel out of you?" he asked with a knowing grin.

"Three." She tossed the popcorn in her mouth. After chewing and swallowing, she declared, "They're too damn cute. I can't say no. And it's all your fault. They're just like you, and I love you, so I love them, and I'm screwed now because they've got me wrapped around their fingers just like their dad always has."

Chris chuckled. "Am I supposed to feel bad about that because I really don't."

"No, but I think you should make it up to me." She kissed him breathless before moving to tease his ear. "It's been weeks since we've fooled around."

"The twins?" he checked.

Straddling him, she answered, "Passed out during the last story." Hands cupping his face, running back through his hair, she teased his lips with hers again. Lightly ran her tongue over the top one until he granted her access to delve more deeply.

Hands on her backside, he pulled her so close they were practically melded. Matched her tongue's exploration with his own. Sliding a hand up the back of her shirt, he undid the hooks of her bra. Both hands slipped up her taut stomach to tease the supple breasts he'd just unleashed. The pads of his thumbs circled lightly over her nipples, and Bianca sucked in sharp breath, shuddering under his ministrations.

As revenge, she yanked off his shirt, kissing his chest while purposefully grinding against him until she felt him go hard.

"Cheater," he breathed in her ear before running his tongue lightly around the edge of it.

Bianca smirked, eyes locked on his. "Better take me upstairs and punish me then, Halliwell."

As they entwined again, passionately kissing and preparing to orb up to the bedroom, someone cried, "Oh god my eyes!"

Whipping a head around as Bianca jumped off him, Chris spotted his cousins Kat and Tam along with his baby sister, who was pointedly staring at her shoes while the other two gawked in amusement.

Face flushing fast, he quietly barked, "What the hell are all of you doing here at this hour?"

Tam, who'd been the one to cry out earlier, answered, "We needed potion ingredients. There's a couple Grimlocks on the loose in our neck of the woods, and we're out of Schisnadra root. When we stopped by Mel's she said Aunt Piper probably had some."

After school, Tam had moved to Boston for a job at one of the local news stations. Kat had gone with her. As much as they longed to be different, neither wanted to be apart despite the ability to orb to each other in a moment's notice.

"Sorry," Melinda sheepishly offered. "I thought you'd moved back to your place this week, or we would have called first."

Throwing on the shirt Bianca was holding out for him, Chris explained, "Contractor pushed back completion again. Now, I have to ask, have any of you actually faced Grimlocks before? They can be damn near impossible to track if you don't know what you're looking for." When the young women exchanged nervous glances, he sighed and looked to Bianca. "Raincheck?"

"Our theme song lately, isn't it?" she dryly returned. When he gave her an apologetic look, she smiled softly. "I've got the twins. Go save some other people's kids."

Giving her a chaste kiss, he whispered, "I swear this is the _last_ time we're getting interrupted."

000

At long last the renovations to the townhome were done, and Chris' little family was finally able to have their own space again. While they'd all enjoyed certain aspects of living at the Manor – namely the food Piper had stuffed them with morning, noon and night – they were all excited to be back home. Back to some semblance of normal after everything that had happened.

Having read them an extra long story tonight, Chris was pleased to see his plan had worked and both Matthew and Victoria were sound asleep by the time he closed the cover. He smiled at the sight of them both so peaceful. Pulling up the covers on Victoria first, Chris kissed her forehead, whispering, "Love you, sweet girl." Crossing to Matthew, he tucked in the already falling blankets, smiling as his son immediately tried to kick them off in his sleep. Some things never change. He kissed his forehead. "Love you, Kiddo."

Heading out of the room, he flicked off the light and gently closed the door behind him. Listening for any sign either of them had stirred and finding none, he quietly but hurriedly headed to his own room. Flicking on the light, closing and locking the door after him, he announced, "Coast is clear."

A shimmer in the air formed into an anxious looking Bianca. "They're really asleep? This early?"

"Yup. We spent all afternoon running around at the park then I read them an insanely long story, and presto, unconscious kiddos and an evening all to ourselves."

Bianca crossed the distance between them in seconds, kissing him almost desperately as she jerked off his shirt and started working on the button of his pants.

Laughing, Chris pulled back. "Hey, now, overzealous much?"

Between kissing various parts of his neck and chest, she answered, "Not – taking – any – chances." She yanked off his pants and boxers and shoved him backwards onto the bed, sliding out of her jeans and panties before straddling him and removing her shirt and bra.

"Um, am I actually needed for this or . . .?" Chris joked.

Bianca flipped their positions so he was on top, her hand going straight for his goods making him give a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan. "Halliwell, we have not had sex in almost two months. _Two months_. We are getting this done quick and dirty because I'm about to lose it. Okay?"

"How romantic."

"Shut up and screw me, Chris."

Rolling her onto her back, he pinned her arms over her head. "Chill." He kissed the hallow spot at the base of her throat in a way that made her close her eyes with a happy hum. Worked his way up her neck to her ear, lightly biting the lobe. With warm breath on her ear, he whispered, "I want to tease you to oblivion instead. Sound good?"

"Compromise," she offered. "Fast fuck first then if nothing happens, we take it nice and slow. Deal?"

"Seriously? I'm offering to do all the things I know you love – bring you to the brink of orgasm and back again repeatedly – and you just want to get it over with? What's the matter with you?"

" _Two months_."

"We dated longer than that before without hardly any physical contact," he pointed out. "Why's this dry spell bugging you so much?"

"Because I feel like it's a bad sign," she admitted. "Like fate is trying to tear us apart again. Like it always does. The universe is saying we're not meant to be one, and after all the horrible luck we've had, I'm starting to freak out a little."

Shaking his head with a smile, Chris teased, "The fate of our relationship hinges on a quickie?"

"Don't say it like that. I know I sound insane, but I need this, Chris. I need to feel connected to you as soon as humanly possible."

Giving her a firm kiss, he brushed the hair off her face. "Okay. Fine. Down and dirty it is."

Rolling over to reach his nightstand, he pulled out a bottle of warming lube, putting a dollop on his fingertips, which he then inserted inside her. He moved them slowly at first, letting her adjust then started moving faster and harder. Flicked her clit until her teeth were tearing into her bottom lip to stop from making too much noise, and her hips were bucking.

Once she was primed, Bianca took a little of the lube in her hand then gripped him firmly. Without any build up, she moved hard and fast, teasing him until he was painfully ready. When he gave a nod to indicate he was good to go, she climbed on top him, and they both let out gasps of pleasure at the feel of being united for the first time in months.

With Chris' hands on her backside helping guide the rhythm, Bianca rode him until they were both slicked with sweat and panting hard. As Chris wouldn't have it any other way, she came first. Going stiff, head arching back, Bianca dug her fingernails into his chest to stop from cry out with her release. A few pumps later, Chris exploded inside her, shoving his face into one of the pillows to muffle his moan.

"Daddy!" Victoria called out.

Panicked, Bianca couldn't seem to shimmer. Horrified at the idea of being caught by the little girl, she dove under the comforter, completely hiding underneath it. Thinking fast, Chris orbed both their clothes back on thankfully able to do so right before tiny orb lights sifted down through his bedroom ceiling.

The little girl's violet eyes were full of moisture as she ran toward him, throwing herself in his arms. With hitched breath, she ranted, "I had a bad dream. The red mist was everywhere. I didn't want to hurt anyone, but I couldn't stop it, and I couldn't find you. I looked and looked cause I was so scared, but I couldn't find you."

"Shhh, it's okay," he soothed, stroking her hair. "It was just a bad dream. I'm right here."

Pulling back, Victoria frowned up at him. "You're all sweaty, and you smell funny. Are you sick?"

Chris' face and ears started burning, and he heard a faint snort coming from under the comforter. Running a hand through his damp hair, he honestly answered, "I was doing a type of exercise. Got warm that's all."

"In jeans?" she challenged.

"Not exactly." He stood guiding her shoulders toward his door. "Why don't I make you some warm milk with banana and molasses? That always helps you calm down and go back to sleep."

Victoria dug her feet in, glaring up at him. "You're hiding something, Daddy." Dark little eyebrows joined together. "Somebody's here. I can sense it."

Chris' heart started pounding for a new reason. "Sweetie, uh, why don't we just-"

"It's Bianca!" Victoria announced. Before Chris could stop her, the little girl bounded toward his bed, jumping and landing next the bump that was his girlfriend hiding under the blanket. "Hi, Bianca! What are you doing here?"

Face redder than Chris had ever seen it, Bianca poked it out from under the comforter. Sheepishly, she returned, "Hi, Vicki. I, uh, had a bad dream too? Your dad was making me feel better."

Hiding a laugh under a cough, Chris still earned a vicious glower from his lover.

"You're in Daddy's bed." Victoria tilted her head, puzzling over something. She nonchalantly wondered, "Did you guys have sex?"

While Bianca stammered incoherently, Chris proclaimed in fatherly dismay, "Victoria, where did you hear that word? Do you know what it means?"

"I heard the big kids at school talking, so I asked Grandpa Leo, and he explained it to me," she answered, unbothered. "He says grown ups do it to show they love each other. It's when a man puts his penis in a woman's vagina."

Bianca put a hand up to her mouth to stop from laughing at the accurate clinical description from the child. Her mirth only got worse at the sight of Chris' face, which was a mix of shocked and horrified behind one of his hands. He muttered, "I'm going to kill my father."

Victoria, not paying him any mind, went on, "I asked Dr. Mickelson first, but he said I needed to ask you, but you get weird anytime I ask you stuff like that."

"Victoria," Chris began, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, "I don't – that's – sex is a very grown up thing, okay? The _most_ grown up of things. While you are right about what it is, it's not something people really talk about. It's private."

"Sounds gross," she announced, making a face.

"It is," he latched onto her childish opinion. "So, promise me you'll never, ever do it. At least until you're like forty."

Bianca smacked him hard in the back.

Another set of small orb lights whirled into the room forming into a sleepy looking Matthew. "Wad's goin' on?" he garbled. Rubbing his eyes, he did a double take at seeing Bianca. Mouth agape, he pointed at her then to Chris and back again. "Did you have sex?"

Face buried in his hands, Chris groaned. "This isn't happening. So. Not. Happening."

Sounding very serious, Victoria challenged her brother, "That's a real grown-up word, Matthew. Do you even know what it means?"

"Yeah, it's when a boy puts his-"

Chris raised his hands. "Enough. Just . . . how do you know about sex, Matthew?"

"I asked Uncle Wyatt where babies come from since I was wondering where he got Christina." Matthew smiled. "She's real cute. Aunt Chloe let me hold her, and she was all small and warm. I liked holding her."

Shooting a sharp look at Bianca who was taking far too much amusement out of his discomfort, Chris informed, "First Dad, then Wy, and if you keep it up, you'll be next on the list."

"When are you gonna marry Daddy?" Victoria directed to Bianca.

The Phoenix witch's amusement died instantly. Face losing color, she looked helplessly to Chris. "Well, uh, we. . . we haven't really . . ."

"Uncle Wy said you're supposed to be married _before_ you have sex," Matthew piped in. As though realizing something horrible, "Did you get married without us there?"

"I would never do that," Chris assured. "Bianca and I are not married. When we do get married, you'll both be a big part of it. I promise."

Bianca's eyebrows flew up. "Did you just . . .?"

Chris gave her a half-smile. "Come on, Bianca, we both know it's coming. You can't really be surprised I'm planning on it."

"But what about . . .?" She pointedly eyed the twins.

"Well, guys," Chris directed to his children, "what do you think? Do you want me and Bianca to get married?"

Victoria enthusiastically nodded, while Mathew gave an indifferent shrug belied by the little smile on his face.

"Good enough." Chris returned his focus to Bianca. "Listen, I'm not saying we do this tomorrow, but aren't you the one who was freaking out earlier about our lousy luck? Not wanting to waste time? I already did the big romantic proposal last time, and it didn't end well, so here's me just telling you I want to be with you and only you forever. You in?"

Bianca smiled, nodding. "Yeah. I'm in."

With whoops and cheers, Matthew and Victoria leapt onto the bed, tackling their father and soon to be step-mother. The four laughed, and a pillow fight and tickle war soon broke out. By the time it was over, the twins were long past their bedtimes and half-passed out from exhaustion.

Chris carried Matthew back to bed while Bianca took Victoria. Once the children were tucked back in, the pair stood in the doorway watching them sleep a moment. Wrapping an arm around Bianca, Chris kissed the side of her head. "I love you. I can't wait to be a family."

"Me too," Bianca concurred, resting her head on his shoulder. "In the words of your son, 'it's about time'."

TBC . . .


	25. Everything Happens for a Reason

Thank you so much to sise87, ann and Naruto Loves FemKyuubi for your kind words on the last chapter. :)

Sorry this took so long to get up, but I had written something entirely different and then started over because I realized this is the perfect place to end this tale. Yup, that's right this is the last chapter. I do have more ideas for this universe if you wanna call it that, but they focus more on the twins, which would be better suited to a sequel if I get enough interest. For now, Chris' journey has come to an end though as he's learned and grown as much as he's going to. That said, I hope you enjoyed and here is the resolution!

Chapter 25

It had taken two lifetimes to get to this moment. Enemies to lovers and back again so many times the first go around. Waffling between friendship and romance in this one. Finally, it was really, truly happening. The stars had aligned. The timing was right. Whatever cliché one preferred, Chris didn't care. All that mattered was that by the end of the day Bianca would be his wife. They'd made it through hell and were about to get their heaven.

Looking in the mirror, he gave a half-smile at the more casual than traditional attire he was donning. A white dress shirt, top button undone, and cool grey dress slacks with no shoes. Perfect for a beach wedding, which was so very _them_. No big ceremony. No hobnobbing with people they didn't really care about. Simple. To the point. Relaxed and intimate.

"Daddy?"

Chris turned at the sound of his daughter's voice, his face splitting into a huge smile at the sight of how pretty his little girl looked. A white flower wreath in her softly wavy brown hair, she was wearing a sweet blush colored dress and a matching sash with little white flowers. Like her father, she was shoeless.

Seeing his smile, Victoria's face lit up. "You like it?"

Walking over to her, he went down on his knees, so they were eye level. "I like the dress. I _love_ you." Kissing her cheek then pulling her into a tight hug, he proclaimed, "You look like a princess, sweet girl."

Pulling back, Victoria ducked her head, smiling shyly. As though confessing a secret, she said quietly, "I kinda feel like one." Then, unable to stop a tiny giggle, she stepped back and twirled, the skirt billowing out. "Look, look – This is the best part!" She did it again, and Chris couldn't help but chuckle at her excitement.

"Wow," Wyatt proclaimed from the entrance of the large tent, "I do not think I have ever seen such a pretty girl in such a pretty dress before."

Victoria laughed, running full speed at her uncle, knowing perfectly well he'd catch her when she leapt up at him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed his cheek and hugged him before pulling back to ask with concern, "Where's Christina and Auntie Chloe?"

"They're already sitting waiting for the wedding to start." He slid a look to Chris. "Speaking of which, you about ready to get this show on the road, Little Brother? The guests are all seated, Mel and I finished off all the demons on the list you gave us, and the warding was blessed with your blood, my blood, and the power of three."

Chris frowned. "And my son would be where exactly? I thought you were watching him."

"No, last I saw Dad was showing him how to skip rocks." Wyatt was quick to add, "I did make sure he was ready though. Hair combed and dressed. Bianca was all set too." He looked at the little girl in his arms. "She did want to see you though, Vicki." Setting her down, he affectionately patted her head. "Better hurry. You never want to leave a bride waiting on her big day."

Victoria rolled her eyes. "If you wanna talk to Daddy alone, you can just say so Uncle Wyatt." She then quickly scampered out of the tent to do as told.

"Wow is she ever your kid," Wyatt laughed, "perceptive and blunt."

"Daddy's girl, and I couldn't be prouder," Chris agreed. "Now, what's up? What'd you want to talk to me about? If this is about my husbandly duties Dad already gave me the 'happy wife happy life' speech, which considering Bianca knows how to kill me a hundred ways without even using her hands, I already kinda knew."

Wyatt's eyebrows went up. "Okay, remind me never to get on her bad side. And, no, not what I wanted to talk to you about. I just wanted to tell you . . . it's okay to be nervous, Chris."

"Nervous?" he repeated. "I am not-" When his big brother folded his arms and cocked his head in challenge, Chris let out a breath. "Okay. I may be a tiny, miniscule, infinitesimal bit nervous. Happy?"

"Being the center of attention has never been your favorite thing," Wyatt said knowingly, "but it's only one day, and it's only family. You can do this."

Chris shoved his hands in his pants pockets, staring at the sandy floor of the tent. "Is it crazy I'm more nervous I'm going to forget my vows than about actually being married? My palms are sweating thinking about all those people staring at me but becoming a husband doesn't freak me out at all."

"Makes sense to me," Wyatt said with a smile. "You picked the right partner, so all you have to worry about is details. And they are so not important, Chris. Trust me, you won't even remember half of this day. It'll be a blur. Just focus on the reward at the end – you get Bianca forever. That's got to be worth enduring some staring, right?"

"Absolutely," Chris said with a half-smile.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Knock, knock," Leo announced, poking his head into the tent. He was beaming with pride as he crossed over to Chris. Giving the young man's shoulder a squeeze, he was surprised when he was pulled into a hug. The uncharacteristic gesture from the son brought a distinct shine to the father's eyes. "I'm so happy for you, Chris," Leo said voice thick with emotion.

"Thanks for always being there for me, Dad," Chris returned. Stepping back from the embrace, still not completely comfortable with them, he added with a smile, "Even when I made that _really really_ hard to do."

Leo laughed. "Well, that's what fathers are for. Not to mention I had a lot to make up for, with, well, other you."

"You did," Chris assured. "You're the best, Dad."

His father dropped his face rubbing his eyes with his fingers to blot out the emotion he was struggling to contain. When Wyatt put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a nod and smile of confirmation, Leo put one hand on each of his son's shoulders. "I love you boys more than anything."

A flash of light made them all wince, and they turned to the tent opening to find Melinda with her camera at the ready. "Sorry to interrupt the boys club," she said lowering it, "but the bride requested I get some photos of her husband-to-be and new family. Pretty sure it was her nice way of getting rid of me. Not a fan of pictures that one." She shot her father a look identical to the irritation often seen on her mother's face. "I feel loved by the way, Dad."

"You know very well how much I love you," Leo threw back, though he moved quickly to give her a hug and kiss on the cheek. "Today is about your brother, though."

Melinda grinned at the younger of her siblings. "Just so you know, Bianca looks stunning, and you can deny it all you want, but you're going to get all teary when you see her walking toward you in that white dress, and I, your loving little sister, plan to capture it in film for all to see."

"Gee thanks."

"Welcome."

Tiny orb lights swirled into Victoria, who immediately ran over to Chris holding something out to him in her hands. "Look! Look what Bianca gave me!" she exclaimed, opening her hand to reveal a pearl necklace accented with pretty silver daisy spacer beads that twinkled in the light.

"That's super pretty," Chris said, squatting to her level. "Did you say thank you?"

Victoria nodded vigorously. "Can you put it on me?"

Taking the delicate piece of jewelry, he fumbled with the teeny tiny latch several times before deciding his fingers were just too big and looking pleadingly up at his sister, who rolled her eyes with a smile and took his place to hook the necklace closed.

Spotting the Charmed Ones at the entrance of the tent, Victoria smiled widely and ran to her grandmother. "Grams, look what Bianca gave me." She lifted her chin to proudly showcase the necklace.

"You look so grown up," Piper said, eyes watering. "You're not supposed to do that you know. You're supposed to stay my sweet little grandbaby forever." She bent to give the girl a good squeeze and a big kiss on the cheek.

"You're smothering the girl," Paige said in a singsong tone. It earned a slap on the arm from her older sister. Rolling her eyes, Paige whispered conspiratorially to Victoria, "She just doesn't like feeling old, but you, my darling niece, look incredibly beautiful, so ignore your grams."

Victoria giggled while Piper levelled a dirty look at her sister.

"Did you know," Phoebe put in, bending to Victoria's height, "they call special necklaces like this one a keepsake? It means you gotta be really, super duper careful with it, okay?"

The little girl put a hand on her necklace as though to protect from an unseen entity. "My new mommy gave it to me. Course I'm gonna be careful with it."

Phoebe slid a nervous look to Chris, clearly wondering if the new term was something they'd discussed or not. When he smiled and nodded, relief split her face into a wide smile. She turned her attention back to her great niece. "Well, that's really good, Sweetie. I'm so happy you're getting such a good mommy."

"She's the best," Matthew's voice came from behind them. Hair windblown and a healthy dose of sand on his white dress shirt, he came running up to his father looking more excited than he had in months. "Look what I got." From his grey dress pants, he pulled out an antique gold pocket watch, holding it out for his father to see.

Taking the watch, Chris saw an engraving on the back and read aloud, "To my step-son because my love for you is timeless – Bianca."

Chris was glad his sister's camera wasn't pointed at him just then because there was a definite prickling at the back of his eyes. Just when he thought he couldn't love Bianca any more than he already did she found a way to incorporate his children even more into their big day and let them feel her love for them with such beautiful mementos.

Apparently, his mother was having similar thoughts because he saw her eyes were full of tears. "Hey, now," he said moving toward her, "don't start the water works already. You've got a whole ceremony to get through." He orbed a box of tissues into his hands, grinning as he held it out to her. "I only brought the one box. After that you're cut off."

Roughly snatching a tissue and dabbing her eyes, Piper griped, "I'm your mother. I'm allowed to cry at your wedding as much as I want, Mister. Deal with it." Handing the box to Wyatt, she held out her arms to Chris. When he stooped to hug her, squeezing her with unspoken affection, the tears returned to her eyes through a brilliant smile. "I love you so much," she whispered in his ear. "I'm so happy you get your happily ever after, Peanut."

"I love you too, Mom," he whispered back. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time being angry."

Pulling back, Piper shook her head. "No, Chris, you had every right to be angry. _I'm_ sorry it took me so long to understand why. To see what an amazing, strong, smart son I had in this timeline instead of focusing on the one I thought I lost."

He smiled softly. "You didn't lose him. He's here. Sorta. Turns out we were all right in the end. I am different but also the same too."

"And we couldn't be happier about both those facts," Phoebe said, shooing her big sister out of the way to hold out her arms to her nephew. When he allowed a hug, she quietly told him, "I'm so proud of you, Honey. Of the life you've made for yourself."

Releasing her, Chris ducked his head a little embarrassed at all the praise. "I had a lot of help." He shot a look to his youngest Aunt whose shoulders were up in a silent question of whether she'd be allowed a turn too. He chuckled and crossed to her with arms wide, quoting, "Aw, here comes the hugging part."

"Very funny, Mister," Paige grumbled, wrinkling her nose as he pulled her in for a hug. Growing serious, she whispered, "Thank you for forgiving me, Chris. I love you a lot you know."

"Ancient history," he quietly returned. Taking a step back with a grin on his face, he added in a normal tone, "I love you too. Even when you drive me crazy, which with you happens a lot."

She very maturely stuck her tongue at out at him before giving him a smile.

Putting two fingers in her mouth, Piper gave a shrill whistle to get everyone's attention. "Okay, People, this wedding was supposed to start like five minutes ago, so let's go so the happy couple can get this show on the road, all right? All right." She grabbed her sisters by the arms, half drug them out of the tent like errant school children, calling for Leo over her shoulder, who, well trained after all these years, didn't hesitate to quickly follow her, ushering out his grandchildren with him.

"Something to look forward to?" Chris shot to his brother.

"Nah, maybe for George if he ever gets the courage to propose to Mel," Wyatt teased.

With hands on hips, Melinda made her oldest brother's point with the glare she levelled at him. "I am not like Mom."

"Uh-huh, sure." "Riiiight."

Melinda slugged both her brothers in the arms. As they grumbled and rubbed the sore spots, she warned with a pointed finger, "I might be the youngest and the smallest out of us, but do not mess with me fellas. You know I can take you both."

"You realize you _just_ proved our point, right?" Chris challenged. "Tiny but terrifying."

Wyatt smiled as his sister's shoulders slumped and head bowed. "That's not a bad thing, Mel. Just try to let George win _some_ times. It helps our poor male egos not to feel totally unneeded."

Smiling, Melinda wrapped her arms around her older brother's middle. She gestured for Chris to come join the group embrace, and he did so with a put-upon sigh. The three siblings held one another for a moment. The first time it had been just the three musketeers for years.

"You know who I'll always need?" Melinda asked them. "You two. My big brothers. The first teachers and protectors and friends I ever had. I love you guys so much."

"Love you too, Mel." Chris kissed the top of her head before stepping back, as usual the first to break the contact. Looking between his siblings he added, "I'll always need you guys too – especially when I adamantly say I don't."

"We know," Wyatt and Mel echoed.

"Seriously," Chris said, fixing each of them with a serious stare in turn, "I wouldn't be here without you two. Wyatt, you literally saved my life. You found me and made me feel safe in a time I never thought I could again. And, Mel, you stopped me from going completely off the rails when the twins were born. I'm afraid to think where I might've gone if you hadn't stood your ground and called me out on my behavior."

Wyatt put his hands in his pockets, shrugging. "You'd have done the same for us – have done, in fact. Besides, you really did all the hard work. We just offered hands when you needed it."

"Still . . . I don't know that I ever said thanks, so . . . thank you. Both of you. So much."

Melinda sniffled, trying to hide tears by blinking rapidly. When that failed, she roughly wiped them away then clapped her hands. "Okay, enough mushy stuff. We've got to get you hitched to your soulmate before she wizens up and changes her mind." Going around them, she half-shoved her brothers toward the entrance. "Hurry up and get in place. Tell Grams the proceedings will start soon, and I'll get Bianca. Go, go, go."

Laughing Chris and Wyatt walked along the beach toward the ceremony site where the rest of the Halliwell clan was seated in rows of white chairs with blue satin ribbons. A few of Bianca's clan was on the opposite side of the white runner. Her mother, Lynn, was already dotting her eyes in much the same manner Piper was. The two mothers shared a look and found common ground for the first time since their antagonistic meeting in 2004.

Taking his place under the white flower covered arch at the front, Chris found himself standing next to his Grandma Patty, who gave him a brilliant smile and with an unsure tilt of her head opened her currently corporeal arms to him. Not knowing her as well as he'd like, he tentatively allowed her to hug him. It felt strangely like holding his mother, and the tension eased out of him after a second.

"I watched you, you know," she said quietly into his ear, "and I couldn't be more proud of all you did for this family, Christopher. You are so much like my Prue. Strong, brave, smart and loving. You deserve all the happiness life can offer, and I am honored the Elders chose to send me here as your High Priestess."

When she released him, Chris smiled warmly at the grandmother he'd only met a handful of times. "Thanks, Grams. I'm really glad you're here too." He edged a look to his Grandpa, who was seated in the front row with his parents. "Think someone may be looking forward to a dance with you later."

For a dead woman, Patty Halliwell blushed quite red. Though she still snuck a look at her ex-husband and smiled with a little wave. Victor grinned, blue eyes twinkling as they always did for her. Chris watched the exchange with both happiness and sorrow. His grandparents were a lot like how he and Bianca had been – deeply in love but unable to make it work.

"The Elders sent a couple special guests for your big day too," Patty informed, lifting her chin to indicate the pair walking up to them.

Chris' mouth dropped at the sight of a stunning young woman with black hair and cool blue-green eyes. Prue. _The_ Prue. Chris immediately looked at his mother who was beaming up at them. Next to her, his other aunts were smiling like fools. They must have already had their reunion or all three would be pouncing on their fourth sister.

"This moment is for us," Prue confirmed. "For me to meet my incredible and oh-so-handsome nephew."

"It's an honor," Chris managed through his shock.

Prue smiled, a wide, bright smile that lit up a room just like his mother's always did. "Don't be silly. We're family, Chris. You don't have to be so formal. Besides, if anyone should be honored to meet someone here, it should be me. You not only saved the world but the whole future and our whole family. All while putting up with my ridiculously stubborn sisters. Believe you me, the Elders had a helluva time keeping me from popping down here to kick some sense into those three."

"They weren't so bad," he tried to defend through a chuckle.

"Yeah, uh-uh, sure."

Chris laughed outright at the knowing look on her face. "Yeah, okay, they were pretty obnoxious."

"I just want to take this opportunity to say how even though we haven't had a chance to get to know one another what with the whole me being dead thing and all I feel like I do know you. I see the best of your parents in you. Piper's boundless strength and fierce love. Leo's patient wisdom and unfailing hope. You, my dear nephew, are an amazing man, and I love you."

Flushing, Chris ducked his head.

"I second that," a familiar voice sharply put in. When he looked up it was to find his great Grams next to Prue, arms crossed and a look both firm and fond on her face. "I didn't know who you were until it was too late to apologize, so hopefully, you'll let an old war horse do it many years too late." She took a breath as though what she was about to say would be incredibly difficult. For Penny Halliwell, it probably was. "I'm sorry. I misjudged you horribly. You were not too green to guide my girls. You were remarkably clever and brave. A man worthy of carrying the Halliwell name."

Chris' eyebrows went up. "High praise."

"Well earned," Penny said with a deliberate emphasis. Then, as though she'd said nothing out of the ordinary, she turned to her granddaughter. "Well, we better take our seats. Let the young man get married, eh?"

Sharing a knowing smile with Chris, Prue nodded agreement and followed her Grams to the row behind her sisters. Just as they were seated, music began to play over the wireless speakers setting next to the arch. The moment had arrived. Chris' heart jumped into excited overtime.

Matthew appeared at the end of the white runner holding a blue pillow harboring the wedding bands. Looking very somber, he carefully stepped in time to the music, eyes glued on the wedding rings he'd been charged with carrying. When Piper and Leo both urged him to smile so Mel could get a good picture, he smiled down into the pillow. Paige sharply whooped his name trying to get him to loosen up, and he scowled at her in a way so identical to his father the entire Halliwell family burst into laughter. The little boy rolled his eyes, which only made the amusement grow with many comments of 'such a mini-Chris' and 'like father like son'.

When Matthew reached Chris' side, he put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Good job, Kiddo."

The ring bearer let out a relieved breath and finally smiled at his Aunt, who got a great picture of the father son duo under the arch.

Not nearly so serious, Victoria appeared with a light blue basket decorated with a white starfish and two white lace bows on the handle. Instead of tossing flowers, her basket was full of orchids, and she was holding a sign in her other hand someone had helped her make. It read, "Daddy, here comes your bride". As she half-skipped up the aisle, it was to a chorus of 'aww' and 'ooh' and 'so adorable'.

Watching her, Chris smiled, nearly laughing at her contagious enthusiasm. Though, the palms of his hands still felt damp as he was reminded how soon he'd be seeing Bianca walk down that aisle toward him. How soon, they'd be hand in hand promising each other forever. His heart pounded harder in anticipation.

"Auntie Mel helped me with the sign," Victoria whispered as she took her place on her father's other side. "She and Uncle Wy have a bet."

Before Chris could question his daughter, the music suddenly changed. Bianca hadn't wanted the traditional 'Here Comes the Bride', so it was a soft, slow instrumental piano piece that reminded Chris of watching the sunset on the beach. Of lazy drifting clouds over a purple and orange sky. Peace and happiness. All they wanted for their future.

A moment later, Bianca appeared at the end of the aisle, and Chris' breath caught in his chest. He'd never seen anything quite as beautiful before. Her hair was in soft ringlets around her shoulders, the only decoration a single white orchid holding the hair back on one side. Her dress was a sweetheart neckline with straps hanging off the shoulders and a long, airy skirt that gave her the appearance of floating toward him. Though what made her so breathtaking was the excited smile on her face and the love shining bright in her eyes.

Melinda was right. The sight of his bride brought tears to Chris' eyes. He didn't care. They'd earned this moment. After all the pain, after all the struggle and loss, he and Bianca were really here. About to commit to one another for their rest of their lives. It made him so unbearably happy his heart hurt from being too full.

Wyatt, who'd been escorting Bianca up the aisle, smiled through a small headshake at his sibling. Depositing the bride next to his brother, he gave Bianca a kiss on the cheek, gave his brother a couple pats on the arm then took his seat next to their parents in the front row.

"Looks like we made it," Bianca whispered, echoing his earlier thoughts.

"You doubted we would?"

She gave a little shrug.

"Have I ever let you down before?" he quietly teased.

She fixed him with a warm stare. "No. You haven't."

Patty whispered to the couple, "Are you ready to begin?" When they both nodded, facing one another and joining hands, she addressed the guests. "We are gathered here today to unite two souls as one. Do you, Chris and Bianca, join us here of your own free will to acknowledge the eternal bond shared by both of you?"

"I do," they said unison.

"Then you may now share your vows to one another."

Chris took a deep breath before beginning. "Bianca, in two lifetimes now, you have been my light in the dark. You've been my strength, my hope, and my heart when I thought I'd lost all of them forever. I promise to spend the rest of my life showing you how grateful I am to have you in it. To love and honor you as my wife, my lover, my friend and my soulmate. All I am is yours."

"Chris," Bianca started, tears threatening to spill, "you are the best thing to have ever happened to me, and I was afraid to believe it was true. That it could last. I didn't think someone like me could deserve someone with such a good heart and strong spirit and quick mind as you. But, after all we've been through, I know now without a doubt I was born to love you, and I promise I always will."

Piper and Leo exchanged looks, the vows exchanged ringing familiar in sentiment to what they'd promised each other during their own handfasting ceremony. They joined hands and smiled knowingly. Another star-crossed couple was about to get their happily ever after.

"Here before witnesses," Patty picked up, "Chris and Bianca have sworn their vows to each other." Gently wrapping a golden cord around the couple's joined hands, she finished, "With this cord, I bind them to those words."

Chris and Bianca chanted, "Heart to thee. Body to thee. Always and Forever. So mote it be."

With a big smile, Patty echoed, "So mote it be."

The couple sealed the promise with a kiss, which earned claps, whistles and cheers from their families. Matthew and Victoria high-fived with huge smiles.

"Now," Patty announced once the couple parted, "the newlyweds have requested one special addition to the handfasting ceremony. To join their new family, they've elected to do a unity ceremony." From a small alter, she handed a jar of green sand to Matthew, one of purple to Victoria, blue to Chris and red to Bianca. Patty then addressed the little family, "Today, you are becoming a family, and to seal your bond, we will blend these four individual vases into one big one."

Setting the large, empty vase on the ground so the twins could easily reach it, Chris and Bianca counted down from three and the four of them each poured their sand into the empty container at the same time, the colors swirling and twisting into a beautiful mixture until the four jars were empty.

"Just as the four different colored sands can from this moment forward no longer be separated," Patty declared, "neither can your new family ever be separated. Blessed be."

"Blessed be," repeated all in attendance.

The twins wrapped their father and new mother in big hugs, the new family sharing a private moment for a minute. All of them were giddy with happiness, laughing and sharing loving, excited looks with each other. Though no heart was fuller than Chris'.

There was a time he never thought he'd be happy again. A time when he couldn't think about a future. Couldn't dare hope for anything beyond survival. He'd been so convinced his life was destined for nothing but darkness and pain and loss, but here he was happier than he'd ever been before.

In this moment, Chris knew he was finally free of both his pasts. He was free from carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Free from the shadow of a man he'd once been and the grief he'd left behind. Free from Lamia and all the horrors she'd made him endure. He was free to cast off the last of the darkness and step wholly into the light of the future.

And what a brilliant future it promised to be.

The End


End file.
